 |
UNCOLLARED Sleek in silk, prowling midnight’s core, I wait at windowsill without watch for some sign he is content, that he would like my company, the match of my wit, the touch of my softness to curl about. Hand-me-down collars fit my neckline and convoke Past within mind, and still there is no inkling – no hint – no trace that he would mark or collar slave. I am bound, still free, joined, but apart, available, yet taken, alive in limbo. Neither sub nor slave, uncollared with lips and heart bound; only He can complete me. There can be no I ‘til leather locks, but only If and He … written by ©slave shari |