Sword
Sword
I dream of clawing red lines
Down you’re back of lily white snow
Of your tender shoulder and throat
I love your naughtiness, your vanity, your shame
And running fingers furtively through
Your red lion’s mane
Hating myself for loving you
As you stab me repeatedly
Your sword of lust and pain so hard and shrewd
Both night and day
Even as it brings me death
As surely as I lay
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