BDSM

Pressed roses and carnations inside brown leather books
Write to me in black wet ink so your words may last
In restless ignorance I soon found myself, exhausted and shook
Bruises don't linger to my skin but old bones will always crack
It's a fresh kind of thrill to do just what you simply shouldn't
Who knows what suspends the ceiling with all that it lacks
No pillars, nor walls, and to imagine it, well, you couldn't
But this is it, hail on skin, and frost in lungs, then into the floor you smack
And the gale of the moment leads you in to a calming decent
So let's try and not let this wither away and lets never holdback
I'll listen to that beautiful voice and taste the smoke on your tongue
While the October moon travels across the sky so steady and black
I'll remember this time when we were happy and young