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 © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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