Your Mark
Conventions are the ties that bind,
from new sensations keep me blind.
Withhold from me no more the pleasure,
of this pain I've grown to treasure.
Exquisite pain...I seek release,
send tremors through my body.
Then leave your mark for all to see,
that I might be set free.
Your nails run deep across my skin,
they leave behind their sensual trail.
To be followed by your hungry bites,
lasting long into the night.
So when this night of passions over,
and the heat of lust subsides,
I'll trace those marks and reminisce,
reminded of pains pleasure.
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