Bound

Your spell, black magic

and I can’t decide

If it’s my will to bend

or your fire that molds

And if there is a difference

what difference can it make?

Resulting in the same

I worship at your feet.

This lust that grows within me

under you spell

and the feeling invoked

as you watch as I writhe

destroyed in your fire and smoke

Did you steal my heart?

Do you hold it captive

like this broken body

injured in your care?

but my mind is not my own

and I haven’t got a care

as long as you are here

close to me in this hell.

Settled by this forge

soaking in the heat

I laugh and I scratch until I bleed

and as the blood soaks the floor

you stand and you stare, wordless

as before.

And then you crouch before me, eyes of fire

mesmerizing my own bruised mirrors,

You show me a heaven and I’m calmed

as your clawed and dirty hand lands

softly to scratch at my tender skin.

Your spell re-weaves and I’m bound and cloaked again.

Docile and complacent, settled at your feet.

I take every accidental touch and meaningless brush

of your flesh against mine and I worship

in the lightning that flashes and spreads

from limb to limb.

I’ll never escape, never be free of this

sickened and changing I’m losing.

My will or yours, its all the same.

If I ran and found my freedom,

I’d leap off the highest peak,

so I could come back, and settle at your feet.

 

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Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

3 thoughts on “Bound”

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