You kiss each of my fingertips,
I am breathless and beaten.
I play Princess,
melancholy Margaret,
missing a man she can never have,
because torturous love,
is the sweetest kind.
I miss you,
even in brief moments,
when you’re mine,
the devil dangles a darling divorcee,
in front of my tear stained face.
I still want you.
clutching you close,
letting you burn my palms,
virtuous vows,
that corrupt me.
God gasps,
as his best girl,
is broken out of prison,
free,
on the streets,
mastering the art of misconduct,
with her new master.
I was born to be the bride,
of a man who couldn’t be blessed.
I wear your shame,
around my neck,
red and gold,
racy rubies,
for your badly behaved boy toy.
You kiss each of my fingertips,
sweetness,
softening the burns,
my body aches,
for the pleasant pain,
only you can provide.
