En Garde
our swords unsheathed
it is our time to spar
sparing no blows
no matter
how hard
flesh feels the wounds
with love and lust filled
thrusts trusting
to make a mark
scar the heart
pain changes to bliss
torturing each other
with touch just so
then i give in
taking
your sword in hand
guiding it towards
a hole made
many months
ago showing
you where i want
you to take me
even if
a little
death
is all i get
please
kill me
every
day
merci
Copyright © Jeff Connelly | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment