Wicked Games


Remember when I danced for you?

Remember how I drunkenly pushed you away

And insisted you let me go?

To just let me dance?


In the mist of my high I had managed to strip down.

I remember thinking how ridiculously sexy I must look.

Black laces, petite breasts and tangled hair.

It was a glorified amateur recital.


On my knees I provided what you craved.

This fragile slender being,

No longer self-conscious,

And the vixen inside was free.


With every fiber of my thong,

I wanted to hate her for her disobedience

And awaken our moist bodies

From her defying silken sheets.  


* A Poem from the Archives of First Love*