her wrists bled profusely
forearms bound to wood
veins strangled, screaming for redemption
her shoulder blades kissed
their juice beaded above her hips
nestled in her lower back
goosebumps punctuated her nipples
areolas ripe and raised
her bosom glistened, sticky, covered by perspiration,
ribcage stretched high, arched,
a proscenium above the stage of her passion
her navel ring gleamed, reflecting the noon sunlight
her cheeks, hard pressed against jagged splinters
were numb, pins, needles,
pubic hair crowned her temple
wind gusted against her damp savannah grass
despite immense pain, torture,
she was aroused
mango juice slithered down her inner thigh
reminiscent of pomegranate juice dripping from Eve’s chin
weary legs crossed ever so slightly
contrasting the nights they lay open.
they gave and received, offereing sustenance
through telepathy coupled with spontaneous rhythms
calves defined from standing on manicured toes
balancing, right hand gripping her backside.
those days are gone,
ankles pinned by rope and steel.
she scramed, exhaled, hung her head.
it is done.
she walked off.
so did I.
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