A dozen white maidens in ivory silks
Grip the rich tissue in your tempered skull.

I hide from them in my own clinical whiteness,
A kind of peace in prayer,

For what once was a promise of decadence and excitement,
Is now a character of lavish leather lilies.

I'm sorry that I hurt you so
With my actions, words, or mind.

I am but a child
Stood in grass-stained whites.

There was a girl
With a plaid skirt,
A red bow,
And lovely pink cheekbones.
She carried a smile,
Sometimes a laugh,
When we ran through
The church parking lot.
She was so fast
In her white stockings
And little black shoes
That it became hard
To keep up with her.

I wonder when,
I wonder why,
She stopped playing tag,
I wonder how it was
That she forgot
How to run.

I miss you, my friend,
You were the best there ever was.

Your eyes are my *******.
Your kiss leaves me breathless.  
Your fingers are my toys.
I submit my body and my heart
For your abuse or adoration.
With you the red bag stays zipped.
Don’t you dare give me a blindfold
Don’t you dare gag my mouth
Don’t put leathers between us.
Only one thing does it for me.
Call it a fetish or call it love.
I just want you.

Click clack
Heels down long pavements
Mean business.
A bystander excuses himself
From my way.
Take a seat and
Squickety squeak
Leather up legs
Crossing on
Leather up legs.
I'm endlessly amused
Biting my lip,
Silently cajoling,
"Oh, is this your thing?"

Shes more than just a pretty face. Shes a hurricane. Demin and lace spun around like wind and rain. A princess that has long since lost her crown- its probably at the bottom of the pacific by now; stitched together with good intentions, lightning, and leather. Held to the ground by a chest harness, gagged with cotton, and her heart made to beat to the rhythm of thunder. Voice like the pounding of the sea against bluffs; breaking down barricades with one subtle stroke. Uprooting trees like she does her long blonde curls and nothing can calm her chaos-not cuffs or rope, not diamonds or pearls. Shes just a little harder to handle then most. Oceans plunder through the floodgates of her eyes at any given moment; parading through the coast, tumbling around with all the broken and bruised cement.
Shes all the abandoned throwns left to drown or freeze without power, warmth or shelter. The promise to do better and be better next time coaxing her further into the fray by her collar and leash but its always the same unpredicted weather. Shes both beauty and the beast- complete opposites chained together by her ankles and wrists. Poetry pouring from her luscious lips in a heavy mist; a coldfront may stall her out but shes still quick to spit with the flick of a whip. Shes deeper than she appears but her foundations crumble under the rubble of her own ivory skin. Broken coral stumbling through the empty halls of her soul-it takes it tole. Shes the act of god, something so vivid and yet so insane could only be brought on by the abundance of sin. A divine cause lost in plush-sweet and also ******; a unity of odd mixtures: vinegar and sugar. Cloudcover hiding the blisfulness of the sun and she cant help but blush. Shes altogether too much and all she leaves behind is death and decay-she destroys everything in her path But its not her fault; she got broken too while sitting in the lap of a tormado; wrapped her up, held her tight, then let her go.Any attempt to get back inside only left her trapped in scar tissue, She went crazy when he called her baby so its no wonder nothing survived. She may leave you with a mild breeze and a sky of orange and pink.She'll send seashells spiraling into you until you become debris..make you wonder what its like to live without the kink.

This leather bag and I,
we've tasted a bit of the world
on dirt trails and city sidewalks,
inside cars, buses, and planes.
This leather bag and I have done battle together.
We've struck intellectual blows in classrooms,
and we've celebrated success in board rooms.
The bag and I even laugh about that time
it blocked a drunk's fist aimed at my kidneys.
Few people believe in the loyalty of a bag.
They seek devotion, love from other people,
only to suffer great disappointment.
This leather bag and I,
we're the best of friends.
That's how it is
and that's how it will always be.

She wears that leather jacket
Like a bee's stripes
To ward off anyone that might want
To get close

Her own, personal uniform
Her armor, her shield

Black leather jacket
An unwritten stop sign
For anyone that might want
To say hello.

If only the Roses in me would not wither,
slowly losing all their leaves,
how crumbled they look - like old leather,
longing for their Gardener