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Delight

Delight
I have dipped into a darkness
I did not know I possessed.
I crave not the gentle hand
Of a careful lover,
But the brutal raw rage of a man's lust for my
Tender flesh.
There are no rose petals here,
Just thorns and chains and leather�
Yes, leather.
I care not for sweet nothings whispered in silk sheets,
Rather the sound of whips, the sting and burn
Of a dark love that juices my ripe and wanting fruit.
Imprint the marks of this night
On my flesh for weeks to come
So I may delight in the shivery memory.
2-24-17

Written by EarthMuffin

Published 25th Feb 2017

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The author encourages honest critique.

Re. Delight

again

25th Feb 2017 10:01am

I wonder why you love misery 'tis as if u had been done unwillingly get over with it rape is a cowards anxiety your poetry of hurt is like a rage may put guys to shame and will not allow any one to leather belt raise you love need sympathy not rage in solemn supine and serene love not lust do engage you are man's poles central stage even when old men engage again has seen many sore as their penis no longer does score yet love they endure yes pure they give orgasm without receiving one they don't burn they only burn