literature

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Literature Text

I am your ornament,
Your prize from battles of leather and linen.
You captured me with wit and called me to you.
I came with little resistance and played in exploration with you.
Now I am your captive,
In bonds of my own invention.
I do not recent it.
Nor do I recent you.
By dark nights I long for you, tossing in my lonely bed.
This is my curse of my own making…
This was originally written 8.27.2007 to an ex.
© 2010 - 2024 Ishaway
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