Sometimes I couldn’t breathe,
Waiting for silenced moans to soak up your dew
Sometimes you scolded me –
A bite, a firm finger.
I was yours in my entirety.
Your best lover, apparently;
Inconceivable to understand how my limbs answered to your note perfectly.
I pined over your leopard skin.
Tracing each beautiful mark as if it were a fine brushstroke –
My Pointillist masterpiece.
Yet the canvas came undone
Your threads rapidly unravelled
In a violent act of impurity
Your colours dripped down my torso one final time
Before My leopard was no more,
Leaving me searching like a blind dog
Hungry, in a pool of your scent