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The Massage Is The Message

The Massage Is The Message

Eyes taped closed to better feel
Your tendons spread beneath my hand,
I sense the tension that reveals
The stress that comes from life’s demands.
 
Gently I knead your pain away,
While working slowly down your spine.
I linger longer where you say,
I know my time is yours not mine.
 
To take your pain’s why I exist,
And even though I cannot see,
I know the beauty I have missed,
Was never meant for such as me.
 
I hear you rise and walk away,
And wait to serve another day.

Divine Bitches on Kink.com

About The Author

Aristotle seeking Phyllis

Aristotle is a submissive singer/songwriter, playwright, poet, and Algernon Swinburne afficionado.

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