Pen de la Pain

By Tom, friend of CelticBitch

The aroma of a just sharpened pencil

Beckons to you.

Your hand brings an instrument of destruction

Caressing the page

Then rubbing it raw into submission

And the page is bleached with your purity.

I stain like ink on your page

I dominate,

But your friction is cramping my flawless sense of style

…Do you need to be handcuffed?