My poetic inspiration today has come from a week of twisting myself into weird positions to view and photograph the lovely marks left on my thighs. AI is mean in so many ways ;)
I spy
Bruise on thigh.
In the mirror,
Or on a screen,
Pretty colours
Change and bleed.
I spy
Bending down.
Thrice a day,
Twisting round,
Thigh mark selfies,
All the way!
I spy
Remembering,
With lustful gaze,
Recounting,
All the joyful pain,
That made the colours blaze.
Beautiful and I’m sure they were pleasurable as well! Im stopping by from Masturbation Monday!
Oh they were indeed :) Thank you.
Ah bruises make such good memories x
Oh yes :)
Bwahahahaha! I love this! All I do for my bruises is ask JB to take a picture with my phone so I can actually get a good look. It never occurred to me to compose poetry to my bruises. Love this! :)
Oh yeah, I get Kev to take pics for me too. But I like the pretzel twisting to take a selfie sometimes too. I also take many, many, many photos of marks. Many many. Heh.
The mark of a bite, the kiss of rope, a handprint, marks from belt/paddle/flogger/crop are all signs. Often my mark on her that she is mine.
Interesting enough, for me, I’ve found, those marks are reminders to me how much she means to me and that I am as much hers as she is mine.
Funny how owning is as much about being owned as possessing.