submissive

darkly,
like a gothic apparition,
You seize me,
already powerless
from Your kiss,
weak-kneed,
teetering at the brink
of an abyss;

You more than
overpower me,
You fairly devour me,
surprisingly
creating a state
of bliss;

I am chaste,
but also chosen,
and Your will
overcomes me,
interwoven
with ecstasy;

but I do not falter,
I do not veer,
as my moans
and my writhing
and my twisting,
make ever clear;

You are my Mistress,
and any measure
of this treasure,
holds no account
of this sacred pleasure,
that I now mount.



April 27, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.