To enforce by your whim

Written by: Bethany Chipperfield

A lover’s dance is but twice the pain, 
Dark and in duress
I have shamed. 
But you prolong your steps,
The dew upon your forehead; askew. 
Dare I stroke the flourished flower
that is draped upon your cheek.
An alibi of love is languidly dropped
from burned lips.
I hear you cry-
Give me all. 

Is it marvelling what you do?
The gentle atonement
of my force. 
Dare I strive with you
in this – durst I?
The touch deepens and in my might
weakness is the only approach,
that dark eyed smile plying your lips – 
for you have won. 
A battle of ease, even on my knees 
I am lost.

You have made me lost to all of light, 
Here my love may end it’s plight.