Replying to a comment on:

Fix it (Sonnet) by Nanshe

With objectification reserved for my fetish, Tiring of the need was the only salvo. When I first forayed into pain as a cure-- An accelerant with an seductive allure-- I needed it like a drug, although The thought of it made you squeamish. You gave me exactly what I wanted, Something you wouldn’t choose on your own-- Pushing boundaries of pain-shaped skin, You submitted and were made again. Hard to soft and flesh to bone You bore my harsh caresses undaunted. But partnering me became a chore That your dear flesh chose not to endure.

INTRANSIT 8-Apr-03/6:17 AM
Um, how long to this point? If I may?




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001