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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1476922
Yeah, what do you want me to write here, eh?
Prisoners

She did tell me;
Love me rough, kiss me tender.
These words I hold true, and close.
Her cold heart, help prisoner
In a bastion of ice,
Much as my own.

My unruly prisoner, seeing her,
Commits traitorous acts,
Leaps, flips, cries of joy
Its blazing passion
Razing our defences,
Ruthless in its need
To be with her.

We cannot hold against this.
This fiery heat, the prisoner calls,
Love.
It is our undoing.
We are vulnerable, as we never have been
We fear, hope, tentatively hope.

She did tell me;
Love me rough, kiss me tender.
And so I shall
Love her rough, kiss her tender,
Lover he tender, kiss her rough.
My hearts delight, so far away
Yet I can feel her touch, her kiss
Every time it rains,
The cool water a reminder,
Of fortress, no more.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1476922-Prisoners