- Erotic Poetry
- His Dominance
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His hands submissive abide inherent will
Instruments of love and pathos
Sadist so prominent in his desire to feed
Do I care, should I care. I will Sir
On seven days on seven shores I will Sir
Made of cold steel resolute . I think not Sir
Intense man, who are you , the brooding Shepard of my soul
No terror breathing. In this expression, he has his demons leashed
Armistice diffusing my chaos , effortless and generous he stands
No Scholar ever knew me better, No Virtuoso saw in me a finer art
Compliance a myth in his shadow , who would struggle ?
Emancipate. Should we care for words Sir? Then I listened....
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