Sliver of sepia,
a single strand of your once immaculate hair trails across your face,
hanging over your navy gaze like a noose,
and my neck breaks, in the most beautiful way,
because I can’t and won’t stop staring.
One hand in the pocket of your jeans,
as you chew on lips that have long been covered, claimed and conquered by my clear, confident gloss.
Your other pushes me back to the pillows,
the kingdom I call home,
crown of honey clover,
blossoms bless my breast,
and I am your princess,
bound to the pink and white sheets,
bound to be worshipped and adored.
