"This..."

by GreyJack

Silenced, encircled, fetal, yet womanly;
Her eyes deepening with desire and surrender,
She touches the baseline where knot meets freedom,
Where brutal passion melds with the tender.
Flexing flesh to feel the rope's embrace,
Knowing and tasting His touch as he ties,
Urging and merging herself with His self,
She births the Truth which knows no lies.
"I am this," she murmurs behind the gag,
Taken, disheveled, a geometry of line.
"I am this," she repeats. "This...and thine."