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I am attracted to knots.
Ones made of rope,
intricate and burning my wrists,
and ones made of words.
You savage my thoughts,
braiding and matting and tangling,
I also like the melody,
the chorus of metallic cries,
Movement creates a cacophony
of shattering, splintering, sighs.
And the way chains look on my skin
I am, perhaps, more attracted to this.
"Thank you, Sir."
Oh, god. Oh, god.
Welts and bruises,
and even tears,
Together, we are two halves,
You as unforgiving in sex as life.
I as indulgent and fluid,
your submissive wife.
| Fluid is good, in both life and poetry. Either without imagination is rather dry, don't you think?||| Posted on 2015-04-18 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] || Carrie,|
I chuckled in amusement at this write. First for the double entendre second for your boldness in putting this out there. I re ently found a home for my erotic writes that is more secure than Elite. .y profession demands that. But I'm always ti kled by reactions to women writing erotic poetry. This is wewl crafted for all the shock value, but it will be up to the men to de ide nust how much. I applaud you.
|| Posted on 2015-04-12 00:00:00 | by jaycee | [ Reply to This ] |