I dreamed a little dream

I came to sing to you a pretty rhyme

a lilting melody that made me think of you

and we were standing in the place

of heavy sinking stones

You kissed me like you owned me

slid your chains right through my bones

and you placed me in the room

where the ceiling was falling fast

each moment without you the air dry and flaky

I escaped to be beside you

and you smiled and kissed me

and your eyes told me I should run

but there I stayed

The chains you jerked they scraped and broke

what was inside of me as you dragged me through the dark

to tie me up and bind me

scrape and scratch and brand me

and there I reveled in the pain

and I bit my lips as I moaned and I screamed and your pleasure grew

and this darkness spread

and in the distance in another crumbling room

another voice was moaning and crooning and singing songs

that weaved the spells I fell under as you licked and bit and pulled

and somewhere I found there was no light left

as your dry and cracked lips captured mine

and with every thrust and grunt and scream and tear

my life’s blood fell upon your altar

The place I longed to stay and worship

but I laid my bloody body bare

and offered you my pleasure as I took it

when you ate my heart

my last breath a scream as you used the chains to draw me up

and used your claws to slice me up and you owned me

mind body and soul

and the bodies were writhing in ecstasy with your powerful roar

and you ripped me limb from limb

and there it was

a tiny piece of heaven

as you threw me bloody and broken

to the dirty floor

in the place of sinking stones

the place you claimed me

and owned me with your lips.

I could have run and I should have run,

I should have lived to see another day

and instead I stayed and succumbed to the pleasure and the pain

and they all watched as you made my blood rain

and my screams were lightning bolts as your laughter and your groans

were the thunder and the wind.

I died and you were still inside.

I died and you were still inside.

 

 

 

 

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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.

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