MsTempestRaven
Posts: 124
Joined: 6/17/2005
From: Texas
Status: offline
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Outside, the vanilla sky moves on, beyond tall oaks and fallen leaves of red and orange and fading green; past yellow headlights of the early morning commute. The sun has not, will not, peek from that vanilla sky today. I have captured the sun and am keeping it for when you wake. I will place a bit of the sun in your coffee. I lay awake hearing the sounds of you asleep, the world, and hold my wrists up in the white air, black leather circling snug, and the tiny lock on each silver buckle, and I remember the savory hours before, the click of the locks and silk swoosh of rope as your hands tied me as you desired. How your eyes smiled as mine wept. And now, your coffee is here on the bedside table with plumes of rising heat, and I kneel down, hold within my hands my captured sun, offer to you, my Mistress, the glorious morning of my gratitude. So that when you turn and stretch and open your tanned eyes, when your dreams still lay on the tip of your tongue, you will see the morning, and taste the sweet butter of our private dawn.
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And out of the darkness, the Zombie did call
True pain and suffering he brought to them all
Away ran the children to hide in their beds,
for fear that the devil would chop off their heads.
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My Thanks in a Private Dawn - 
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