Mistress

I would bow before you in public and kiss your feet.  And I would dance naked in church to please you.  Because you make me smile. When spectered wisps of melody flow from instruments captured by metal and magic I think of you.  How easily you samba in my head until I am a frothy mess of desire begging the sky that you were here for me to touch and kiss and lick and smell, and surround me.  So often am I captive of your image that I have reached bliss while alone in a room without moving, or breathing, just thinking of you.  Totally in your control.  You ain’t here and you still own me.  Thank you mistress.  Thank you.  mistress. Written January 14th, 2002 © on Jan 14 2002 03:40 PM PST   0 • 8