Trembling, he awaits
Her touch
Will it be the gentle caress?
Or the rough pleasures?
Or the fire which tests his will
in submission?
Shivering in desire
To prove his love
Will it be a word that binds?
Ropes that shape and contain?
Or the unyielding demand
of leather on flesh?
Eyes wide, he prays
To yield
Will she see his fears today?
And by her will go down that path?
To take her pleasure in this hour
yet leave him wanting?
Quietly breathing,
he writes and wonders.

A match made in heaven

