I can taste the salty - sweet
flavour of my own blood.
From where I bit down.
So hard. Nobody could hear me scream.
I carry too - the flavour called you.
The delicious sweat that is you.
You wonderful, delightful wild you.
I silently scream - is this a dream?
Is this just a damned dream I scream!
Is it me or am I just a too attached
- too hooked to the things you do.
The things you do with that leather
without leaving any cuts on my back...
...it drives me crazy, it drives me mad
the things you can do with a feather.
My lace is stained my blood red -
as is the silk linen on my bed. It goes
well with the red wax from
the candle you so slowly dripped on my back.
I silently scream - is this a dream?
Is this just a damned dream, I scream!
I can taste the salty - sweet
flavour of my own blood.
From where I bit down.
So hard. No body would hear me scream.
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