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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,
Lovely knots.

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.

"Yes, Master."
And
"Thank you, Sir."
Oh, god. Oh, god.
Welts and bruises,
and even tears,
messy business,
love-making is.

Together, we are two halves,
You as unforgiving in sex as life.
I as indulgent and fluid,
your submissive wife.