Erotic PoetryPossessionToo soft, those words, those gentle knives;
They pierce with kisses and cold caress.
Why? To wound, to inflict your discontent
Ministrations of pain, rawness along my soul.
Symphony of agonies, dance with tiny searing feet;
I welcome the warmth of flames and cherish the burn.
I bleed, and love, and offer all to you;
Claim me, hurt and destroy me, that I may be reborn.
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