"sonnet47"

my wings so desire to course swift to thee
first i ask to approach with Sir's agree.
with little face low as wings flee to flight,
tightened bindings begin their bind in tight
against bruised skin, it so painfully marks
with each strike, a mouth screams as body arcs.
sweat drips in hunger from unsilent walls
his chains encase flesh to strangle and maul;
pulled high to the hooks, his beast is unleashed
silently dangles with passions released.
he moves to the girl so voiceless and bare
in bearly a whisper, he twines her hair
a trembled ecstasy falls from her lips
her spirited mind falls into eclipse.

`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
17mar10
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