Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

My thoughts are exposed by the nibbles you wildly bestow, And I am defenceless as your mouth makes quicksilver of awed bones, Lost and honeyed by lips that travel, my own moan a vow. Triumphantly, you swallow my soft words, a loving knave, I meet your conqueror tongue with an urgent question, boldly asked, Oh, Lover, your pliant answer shows who is the true slave.