Fallen at the Monument

The cruelest fate
Has befallen
And now I'm lost in a world of daggers
Without a guide

I wonder around, nearly naked
Torn sheets of my own design
Without even a glimmer of a chance
To serve him well

The smell of him has scarred me.
A Nordic God elixir
A faint scent of him remains
As he returns to his throne
To a place I cannot go.

The taste of him burns me
As the tears fall
Wickedly.
The salty droplets a reminder,
Of what it was like
To have had him in my mouth.

I walk through the forest and field
A grey landscape with green intrusions
To the Olympic sized mountain of which he has ascended
And I weep from the anguish
Of his departure.

I was in this for the pleasure as much as for the pain
I wanted his bruises and his scar
His mark of adoration
To be seen beneath my tattered sheets
Exposing what the impact of him
looked like.

What was it that I have done
For the cord to be cut so soon?
Could you not see I was in infancy?
I couldn't follow rules
I had not yet learned how to read.

I'm laying on the ground, in the mud
Save for the clovers
I will never be so lucky again
To find a Dom like you.

For eternity a part of me remains at the base of your mountain
In worship
Covered by the mist of early day
And the wetness from the dew of dawn
To feel the first and last of your pain
Twist inside me deeper
And I come completely undone.