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
There are no rose petals here,
Just thorns and chains and 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.