Withdrawal
Suspended here above your silken bed,
I yearn to feel your lovely needle's prick;
For me, you are the screw, and I the thread,
As what we have burns true, just like the wick.

What use can have a key without a lock?
Left unfulfilled and gleeless evermore;
Or has a door when no one's there to knock?
My tail, once raised, hangs low, toward the floor.

So powerless—these straps, they will not break,
When will your soothing raps my body grace?
You know I can't escape, I'm yours to take,
Paws tied, maw wide, agape, you set the pace.

I'm parchment bound, unfurled so by your thrust;
And filled by you, this world again seems just.

-Charles Michael Averin