Sands of Dominance


Her petals wither, sans his touch,

Stoop low to shrivel,

For love’s her nature,

Affection, her glow natural,

She’s there to lend him all,

Trying concealing her desires, incessantly fail,

Now, her craving figure was all that mattered,

Forgotten, wiped away, moaned her stature,

Time, and again, won the butterfly,

Subdued to a submissive end,

Sucked out of its honey,

The flower wept dry,

A price for everything,

For his manly brush, his passionate sting,

His appearances, convenience-regulated his incoming flights,

She had to pay with her identity,

Calmly click his rage soaring heights,

Act the one foolish, the one docile,

Had to grow weak in his absence,

Bend to his presence,

Survive in easy tunnels,

Beneath his Sands of Dominance…





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