I went to bed and I dreamt.

I regale you with..."My Dream"

Whisper a dream into my ears,
so I may sleep in silken pleasure,
and dream of your hands,
ministering onto my body,
and fulfilling its jagged needs.
The barbarian whispered in my ear.
Yellow eyes aglow with wickedness,
silver flecked promises of death,
Death by pleasure.
He whispered,
Do you dream in heat?
And in the poetry of lips and tongues.

I breathed the mist surrounding me,
beneath my shadows here.
Above the speech within my mind,
the words just became clear.
I dream in cold and shadow,
I dream of moments lost,
what could have been,
what should have been,
I dream of the scorches,
left on my soul,
on my thighs the cuts,
of silver wires,
and the blossoms of pleasure,
which survive.
He sighed and shifted,
slightly though,
skin on leather, silken shadow,
his lips mere inches from my ear.
Do you dream in heat, milady?
and in the poetry of lips and tongues.

I turned my face into the wind,
and feel the darkness slide,
I turn to face my taunters chide,
as on his breath I felt it ride,
and on his skin I smelt it,
brutality and tenderness,
the blissful roughness,
gleeful press,
and as I touched my lips to him,
he moaned aloud my gentle sin,
moaned,
Do you dream in heat, my dear,
And in the Poetry of lips and tongues.