Like bumping my toe against obstructive wood,
I savour the pain, instead of doing as I should.
I ache and ache,
But I refuse to break.
The act brought about by an irrational whim,
Expressive of the water flowing past the rim.
Insolent, as it was despite it all,
So, for you I suffer, but I will not fall.
I long for the touch you so ardently deny,
Yet, I feel compelled to comply.
The feeling of your brand of justice is so intoxicating,
And in my state of servitude, so deliciously liberating.
The acid that unrelentingly spews from your lips,
Falls like warm tea and honey, as it slips.
The agonizing state of soulful arousal,
Is the juxtaposed witch with an irresistible lull.
Yet, before all the pleasure I unknowingly allow,
I offer my disgrace, my discomfort and I bow.
I am a tree; Proud and tall.
But you are the sun, my morning call.
I may adorn myself with numerous ornaments,
Be awash in a cacophonous symphony of scents.
I may put on a chain, a locket or even a ring,
But I wear your collar, before everything.