My Beautiful Prisoner
Beast behold... A beauty beckons to me.
With eyes so solid and ebony granite,
I have no other choice than to crane like a plant to the light.
IF only to hear the whisper of your voice at night.
With this stealthy whisper, you shall become my willing prisoner.
Chains of love flailing about in curves and twists,
entangling every crevice to crevice, every cranny to cranny.
Procreating a love prison of two, not three, not many.
To finally hear your radiant chimes, to finally flex your thought provoking mind.
You are now, and forever, within inclination, the beauty that is mine.
For this amorous prison cannot be broken, shaken, or corrupted by intruders.
Here, you are as free as a bird, while bearing chains to your two thirds.
The outside just footsteps away, where alien chains lay and prey.
Where alien chains seek to steal a beauty, even if by fray.
With the finality of your thunderous embrace,
warm yet painless in all expense, with a blossom in every caress,
there is little more than to beckon to my beauty with this:
I have my beauty, and he has his beast.
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