I saw your angelface, I heard your voice.at morning song, your bright soprano and I felt beneath your robe, your youth that kindled flames in me.
From you I crave for this. This ache.
For this I’ll give to you my life, eternity, my words so promise me, my love, come when vespers have been sung, (and bring no book)
For this, one day, we’ll give to idleness.with hunger of our hands, our breath, our life beyond.
But tonight for this we’ll burn, fingers probing, finding flesh, pushing, tasting mucus and being wicked, play.
For this my curse and blessing. Please come sing, debase me, hurt me. please my love, for this. I’m not your teacher, but your greedy student.
For this will be our little secret, this staining hidden under bedsheets.
How can they call a master’s love like this exploitation?
Ingrid hosts Prosery today at dVerse, and the lines we are to embed in our story (which in my case is quite sordid) are:
And bring no book, for this one day
We’ll give to idleness
January 17, 2021.