A cramped window
allows just enough sunlight
to feed temptation,
to read again.
Eyes fall on the latest letter
a struggle at this hour
oh to only see the girl,
standing perfectly still.
There in her late night gown or dress
it does not matter,
just as long as she has come.
I bring her mouth close to mine
we share the space,
she begs to be even closer
with the wish granted
without ever using the words
her eyes relay the hour.
Without too much effort
the Messenger lays strewn about
her heavy gaze settles
she doesn’t want to hear the words.
Dangerous touching against the edges.
We dance like this,
going around and around for centuries.
From first time fists
to heavy palming
we swim to keep at the surface.
Her purpose has turned
from behind, she slightly reaches
on her perfectly manicured toes.
Barely touching the ground now
she brings her hungry kiss
closer to Mine, but before we meet
I settled her in her favorite position.
Properly balanced of course
her divine submission
most find hard to comprehend
the electrical charge.
Her mood switches and turns,
bracing for the leathered palm.
The sound alone changed her direction
she wanted more of that hand.
A wave washed down her
stripped and wanting more.
The pleasure pain principle
left a sensitive mark
she squeezed tightly.
The cost of loving this way
meant everything had to be thought out.
From the start of all this
meant there were lessons to learn
she boldly thought she understood
being the perfect student
always eager to play the part.
She was introduced to her thorn,
her fucking unmistakable thorn.
She was free to start living this life,
just as long as she stood perfectly still
being pretty underneath the skin
had always been a gift of hers.
Today we killed the Messenger
there is no more need
for her delivered words.