a poem by Melyssa G. Sprott, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

What’s a little pleasure
without a little pain?
How much fun can the fantasy be
if the torture is always the same?

With some leather
and some whips,
this fantasy is different—
picture this:

a blindfold placed
over closed eyes,
cold steel on your skin,
and arms tightly tied.

Words softly whispered.
Slowly rising tension.
There is something
I should mention.

You’re alone with a killer.
Alone in the night.
Scream into the darkness
as you beg for your life.

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