Lace my will tight


Escape

You trick me with your proposition, bend
my soft-boned knees and mould me
into an amenable position.
Lace my will tight.

Securely have me tethered to your height
and do your best to ride on me, prostrate,
to bugger and caress me,
while I wait

for one sweet word. You silently keep on,
avoid my eyes and push into the void.
Breath on my neck. Now give me head you moan.
My toes unfurl.

I do it on my own. I curl into my wings.
An airborne thing contains me now, I rise,
head on, into the shimmer of the night,
I'm gone.





Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 398 times
Written on 2006-08-02 at 22:58

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