Slave Love

Trapped inside your mind,

and the edges of your square bed.

What was I thinking, bound to you?

No space for my thoughts to roam,

lingering like a death shroud.

I've spent so much time

reflecting on how I've catered to you,

wondering how to break free

from these firm fetters.

This stems from your imperfections

that weren't sufficient reasons to leave

and absolve myself of this

so-called love.

But we both utterly knew

what that meant

in the chagrin

of our own judgment.

So now is the time

to admit that

your explicitly lawful act

was a dastardly response

to my illicit show of true colours,

stripping me of all propriety.

It was essential that you held on to this

externally draw consent

to keep me as your whore

for your sordid game.