Rope.

Rope.

A tight-wound rope,

laid bare for eyes to see,

bend to reach, don’t hesitate, 

snaking hands on skin.

 

Tantalize fingertips,

hold my very being.

tender tongues meet,

with a single sexual kiss.

 

First, grasp the legs,

winding round & round,

adding little knots,

down naked thighs.

 

Move up the torso,

around sweet breasts,

the rope tightens around,

closing voids in the chest.

 

Feelings of hot and heavy,

hot like the lights,

blazing upon the skin,

heavy like the rope,

that holds thee within.

 

Next, it’s the wrists,

twisting it backwards & between,

pushing them high,

to reach the hook above.

 

Fibres nuzzle naked flesh,

thud slows in the chest,

the body relaxes its psyche,

when given full authority.

 

Written by: Katie Clarke