He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.
I wonder what those things include.
Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?
As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?
Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me
Staring into my eyes so he can see us
Because I am now his submissive.
A reflection of his dominance,
A result of his care,
Remember when I started smoking? We smoked together. I used to spend the nights on the town and the days walking in the park before Mary Jane infiltrated my world. There were days the sun didn’t kiss my skin and nights the moon never got to meet the sun. We, instead, spent hours on the couch laughing over shotguns and zombies. We shared kisses infused with Hennessy and whiskey. Fresh herb stained our lips. What a life.
Our taste is on the tip of my tongue; our scent lingers on my lips and nose. A tingle remains on my backside to remind me of the way you popped my ass to correct my arch. I want to please you in every way.
I’m feeling antsy in this heat. I should be in the nude. Your hands should be fixed in the crooks of my knees. My knees should be pressed into ribs while your phallus massages my insides. The sound of coqui add to the soundtrack of our love making.
Let us recite our sacrilegious prayer. It’s the one we share prior to commencing congress. You give thanks to our higher power for giving me your rib. I give thanks for the strength in your backbone. Our lips unite after we say ‘amen.’ You’re delicious. Stroke me.
Lay up with me under clouds of weed smoke. Your fingers part my lips while you kiss the other pair.
I raise my glass to the people with full resumes & adequate experience yet lack the sheet of paper that exempts them from inferior pay. To Those of us actively hunting for our purpose under the umbrella of others. It’s time to dance in the rain.
I’ve been cradling my grief like a newborn baby. He’s mine. No one can see him, no one can touch him, and if he does somehow make it into someone’s view, you can’t tell me what to do with him. Some days it seems he’s getting big and growing to be too much for me to nurture alone. Other days, most days, I manage with him just fine. Today we’re getting ready for work and I pray he behaves himself.
Can we make love under the crackling thunder? The droplets of rain would evaporate when they kiss our bare skin.
Our taste is on the tip of my tongue; our scent lingers on my lips and nose. A tingle remains on my backside to remind me of the way you popped my ass to perfect my arch. I want to please you in every way.