The Duke of Burgundy

You know how I love it:

tie me up with your purple silk scarf,

cold glide that tights my skin,

pull my hair with your fingers

and lay down my head on a wooden pillow.

 

Turn off the moon:

invite darkness,

leave two holes above my nose

so I can breathe in freshens of the night.

 

Place my feet

in a rectangular position:

let them linger just a bit

as you wrap me in the song of

night owls and chirping crickets,

my breasts kiss the feathered leaves

scattered like ornaments around my chest.

 

Lock me up in the trunk of your soul,

empty tunnel echoing my heart beat

as I bath in the burgundy light of your eyes.

 

Use me, accuse me, lose me,

amuse me, confuse me, seduce me:

 

that’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.

Maja S. Todorovic

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