His lady was a night flower
she lured him into the
the darkness of the nights and stole his heart and controlled
his mind
he was just like a toy
and she pulled all his strings
whenever she needed to play her games of love
and when the mornings came she left him chained to a big iron bedstead until her hunger grew
he would wait untill he heard her voice then she would free him from his chains
to became her love slave
to serve her and feed her on wild strawberries and her favorate pink Champagne
he was orderd to call her Mistress Pink
untill such times as she might just tire of him and free him from his role
A very different poem for you all today, hope you will like it all comments appreciated thanks Rosie
All Rights Reserved Rosie Fielding2011
Que bello mi querida Rosie..
ReplyDeleteGracias por compartirlo..
Besitos del alma
Marielle
Slave To Love. Brian Ferry
ReplyDeleteIt instantly reminds me of that song.
Were you listening to it when writing ???
Interesting. The iron an the fragility of a rose. Xxx gm
ReplyDeletebeen drinking ?...some serious Dom there
ReplyDeleteExiting comment Dana .... I can see that your mind is straying a little lol after reading my words hug Rosie.
ReplyDeleteOh My......"Love It"
ReplyDeleteDominatrix by the sounds of it - six months and he's out is the message most women hold dear to. A different kind of poem today Rosie - good for you :-)) Have a great weekend :-))
ReplyDeleteGreat comment Bernard.... thankyou !
ReplyDeletehot love ..rising passions
ReplyDeleteShows a dark, sad side to one that loves and is not really loved in return.
ReplyDeletevery unusual
ReplyDeletea captivating idea, a bit dark but only in one's imaginations. thanks.
ReplyDelete