- Erotic Poetry
- Her Week
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Her Week
Monday
She feels Him everywhere
The dull ache of overuse
The slightly chapped lips
Every entrance fatigued
From His insatiable need
Her bottom blushed as if
She sat in melted crayons
hodgepodge of purple still
Transforming into black
Wednesday
Marks remain her trophies
Soreness replaced by achy want
Nipples still taut from abuse
She misses his smell now fading
From the shirt he left behind
Saturday
All is gone but her memories
She curses the week ahead
Yes, His voice will guide her
But hardly satisfies all needs
Oh, to be bent like a toy
And pummeled into submission
To be claimed once again
In His timeless world of leather
Of chains, & ropes, wax & ice
But nothing left to do but wait
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