HAPPINESS IN SLAVERY

HAPPINESS IN SLAVERY

My Dear Sir,

The wind blows endlessly

All through these rooms

With a pure and violent spirit

While my freedom lay in silence �

Bound to you in secret and in truth.

It sends a chill down my spine

Where your cool hand once fumbled

With formidable familiarity

At the steel zipper of my dress.

Where did you come from?

Dark halls and diminutive rooms

Under white sheets, whispering

Children�s verses - with adult intentions

I watch your shadow move

Across the room as you drift away.

How cold physical warmth can be

When it gets up and leaves the room �

All I can do is shiver in anticipation

For the next storm to settle in.

How long will I wait?

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