At Her Service

What she tells me is that
she has these feelings,
the wandering starry embers
of a need that surfaces
with me as the surrogate
to assist her in her need
to assuage the inner workings
of her mind,
an agile beast
that keeps her
in a cage
on the edge
of a moist moment.

I tell her
that I am only human
and yet she insists
that only a demon
or some such tendriled sweep
of magnetism
will have the desired effect
and so I mount the cause
with everything
that is within me.

Until the full display
is inaugurated,
she will not have leave
of me
and a legion
of such spectres
whip the ship
of her despair
and she will have it
all in worded script
or it will not be done.

I am hers
and she my mistress.

My every word
and breath
is measured
in the epicureanism
of her fantasy.

runningturtle87