to you my captor

to you my captor this aguished call i address

free me from this gripping bondage

for my soul is in deep aguish

these velvet chains of yours

a constant thorn to my bleeding side..

i am a man, a weak and helpless man,

my face longs for the touch of your hand like a thousand year thirst..

my body,

wretched and rotting with want and desire,

is aching like a sun dried sacrifice
in whose face pain was written with such a grotesque handwritting that Misery only can write
– all for a mere sprinkle of your tenderness…

even if im standing on a bent knee you will never see me crawl

even if im bruised, battered and bleeding i will never ever concede defeat…

you see,

i may be a slave but i have my pride

never will i cry mercy..

I am no Spartacus madam
The best that i can muster is cry my aguish to the deaf and uncaring skies
beneath this swollen and raw skin is a hardly beating heart…
i am your slave madam,
and to you who captured me
i give you myself
because despite the torture, the aguish and the pain…
your touch is worth it madam
and your tenderness simply erases all…

 

By: Anthony

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