His fingers and his hands
Turning Twisting and Pulling the jute
The urge to move was at times
painfully undeniable but
So was the joy in his face as he worked. He was an artisan
a journeyman, A craftsman whose trade took her mobility away.
The anticipation of being delightfully violated grew with each knot. He could smell her desire but toiled away Transforming his love into a fixed sculpture. One with the neediest eyes his had ever been
blessed with seeing.
JWShane 
at 1613003721000
- Ziya and CurrentNobody like this
