Tied

Tied

 

Running it through my hands,
feeling its texture.
Not looking at it.
Looking at you.

Images run through my mind,
how you will look,
what I will do.

Laying it on your skin,
binding,
restricting,
ornamenting.

Making you helpless.

Hitch, weave, cinch, tension, turn.

Beautiful, and beautiful.
Helpless but held.

Tied

By | 2012-07-22T13:30:23+00:00 July 22nd, 2012|Categories: Poetry|Tags: |0 Comments

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