From journeyman to master in his craft,
His artful words subsume me with their touch,
Entwining limbs and corps with phantom bonds,
Unsheathing new the blade sharpened with lust.
Can yet I remain separate and whole
Should he reach out and forage me for food
To nourish his heart rent from carnal woe
And supply hollow coffers with fresh tools?
With flaming torch bled of my passion bold,
Arraigning me thus guilty in desire,
He forges restraints I content embrace
As kidskin gloves caress and I expire.
For from his hand that I will never feel
My cheek reclines against the lyric steel.