Vena amoris

I never wanted to be just another seed or jewel on your necklace, not even if mine happened to be the largest stone nestling into your suprasternal notch. I wanted to be the whole necklace, the bracelet around your wrist, the ring about the fourth finger of your left hand. And in the darker world of our fantasies, the collar around your neck, the rope about your wrists, the padlock securing – and simultaneously liberating – your free will.

Just as in turn I wished to wear the key to that lock around my neck, the belt with which you granted me licence about my waist, and the second of the pair of rings on the fourth finger of my left hand.


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