Dance Me Down the BoulevardA Poem by Pen Draggin'
Woman, you've got me fixed
between your forefinger and the splinters embedded under the ridges of your prints. I can feel the strings rise from my limbs when I look to see that your breasts are exposed and your feet are not. The flaming curls under your harlequin hat give me the shakes and for some reason I'm thankful to be your plaything when my body buckles with desire and tenses those slackened tethers. Dance me down the boulevard, Darling. Pull those strings that make me say things I may not mean and do things I wouldn't normally do. God damn you, woman. Truthfully, tell me, how long do you expect to keep me as your rag-doll? I ask only for my own curiosity, really. My intentions have always been clear here, a puppet head hung in welcome submission; and it never occurred to me to wonder what yours were. Even as your fingers twist and tug, and my naked body is paled by the spotlight of your smile, I am only exalted to be your private prancing prince.
© 2010 Pen Draggin'Author's Note
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6 Reviews Added on February 21, 2010 Last Updated on February 21, 2010 AuthorPen Draggin'Portland, ORAboutHi! I'm Kelsey, I'm 22 years old with a passion for poetry. I write because it is innate and, quite simply, I'm pretty f*****g good at it. I love the rain. I will always belong to the Northwest. I sa.. more..Writing
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