Claim your throne.
It’s made of bone,
but soft and delicate.
Marked with your scent.
You, ensconced in your tight thread,
Adorned by crystals, white and red,
are surely the queen of diamonds,
and many other fantastical designs.
Appealingly exposing your chest,
the passionate organ I love best.
Mouth open wide, are you now the queen of hearts,
engaged, with me, in some perverse performance art?
Tell me it’s not really an act… is it?
How it feels for me whenever you visit?
Tell me you need this feeling, too, and that’s why roam,
away from your home, to me, to claim your throne.