cane my milk white skin until it bleeds bloody raw
ruby as the crimson in His bloodstained smile.
i keel over from the blow of His insane cane strokes
with my last breath i moan
necrophiliac romantic
lashings of honeydew and cream
all over my naked corpse.
remind me i'm His dead girl
lusting after life
dressed in bondage.
o how wise is He?
sadist.
romanticised bloodlust in His twisted sharp toothed sneer.
loops of wedding rings
marry me in death this twilight eve.
- ©️ Mars Saturnia
YOU ARE READING
He
Poetrywhat did He do to you? He- [a collection of classical and sexual poems about Him] © 2024 Mars Saturnia [Lowercase and capitalisation of "He/Him/His intended]
