"Mine!" She says,
and he cries out,
a whimpered, battered, ragged shout,
"yes" he coos,
and She is still,
Her hand upon his collared will,
the lights are dim and sounds are soft,
the praise and pain keep them aloft,
and no one knows outside the walls,
how fast he comes,
when Her voice calls.
“Come what may” says he
ReplyDeleteThose words she holds true
From your heart she’ll not flee
For her only true love is you