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The Angel’s Harlot

The Angel’s  Harlot

Perched upon a desolate tombstone,
she sat, unconcerned with the world.
The dark shadows on her head hung loose,
she wore sparkling white, but no shoes.
Smeared a little scarlet on her mouth,
angelic, not at all uncouth.
Beneath her i sat, her feet in my lap,
chains around my neck were my wrap.
I was dressed in black from head to toe,
my mind was racing, her world was slow.
There was crimson on my lips as well,
complete antonym of her elegant dwell.
My hand bore talons made of fury,
her’s held power, despite being ruly.
If she was the sun, i was the moon,
if we ever united it would be too soon.
We were torn between desire and reality, so to say,
our lips met, while our bodies moved further and further away.


About ancilla9876

I'm a young, female, Indian submissive and masochist. I am many other things, of course. But this blog mostly deals with the contents of my lede sentence.

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