Still Trapped

When I re-read his letters, it feels strange:
As if another universe, I left,
Returns to seer my soul and re-arrange
My thoughts.

Although I never wept
To see him go, that was the cruellest time:
Visceral venery was so intense.
(Could be the case with D/s by design?
Given harsh passion, is there's any sense
In halfway-houses?)

All submissive roles
Must be fulfilled, where dominance exerts
The shadow that it should. It's really poles
Apart from dark romance: it fucking hurts
Diversely: heart, mind, flesh and, even worse,
Still traps me in that loathsome universe.