Roses or Wine

If I spread my legs wide,
Line the soft, sweet path of inner thigh,
With barbed wire –
to hinder your stride,
Writhe in unhindered desire –
for your cold touch,
Weep my innocent eyes —
to subdue your pride,
Could this display of submission —
sickly sweet delusion,
console your conscience?

Mass-o-kism mek-o-nism
Bleeding heart, weepy-eyed,
lily livered in-grati-tude

Tell me again, what a bad boy you are.
When I bleed there is pain.
Yours or mine, you decide –
Roses or wine?

(c) 1993

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