The Magic of Puree Pathology

Table set for two, romantic in candlelight,
Subtly dimming your true intentions,
Flickering souls tarnished by night,
Dazed by your misdirection.

Shock sets in, and passes over me, a whisper,
Lovers speaking in hushed dusk tones,
Serving my sibling, unwelcome offer,
But a grim offering none the less.

Heaving on each mouthful, my insides taut,
Eyes pleading heartfelt with you to stop,
Lust and sadism indistinguishable,
And I serve both masters.

Pulsating inside as you watch my tears,
Always manipulating my weakness,
Relishing every mouthful forced,
Rising to my suffering.

The meal is complete, but this is initiation.
I sense that your plans run deeper,
Advantageous secrets,
Trust misplaced,
My downfall.

Gazing, love and fear’s cocktail, into your dark eyes,
I attempt once again to gain your absent mercy,
‘Dyer-Bolique, with higher hand and magic art,
You have won.
I submit to your will as you wish,
But plead that you show mercy.’