Spider's web
My love, you have got me on the tip of your fingers,
I'm hanging from your cobwebs.
Your giggle is a music to my ears as your legs pierce my skin tearing from bone to bone, limb to limb.
I'm just one of your devotees, yet I don't stop to wonder how many more are there.
I let you puppeteer as that was your wish.
I have not even one regret, I don't need to think twice before selling my soul to your gaze.
You control better than I do my own life.
I need not to think twice as I am a good devote, I beg for your feather light touch despite it burning like acid through my skin and scorching my flesh for the next meal.
I do not fret, it hurts and burns yet if it means I get to hold your gaze for a second longer, feel your touch for a moment.
I am in hell, yet it is my heaven that's what being a devotee to you means afterall.
I shall carry it with pride...
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