Woeful Waltz

As the sheets dampen beneath our salacious accord he makes his request,
Queen of the predators to choose the king’s deserving prey.
As our bodies merge once more, minds spinning in destruction’s lust,
Queen of the predators contemplates her offering.

Thoughts of our fury drive fury on,
Heated in dominance’s turn,
Desperately needed,
Wanton, sated.
Pas de chat.

The wheel shall turn against the exquisite choreographer,
My salacious Dyer-Bolique, he is a cruel ballet master,
His choice to use the casting couch for his own performance.
A heightened challenge to perform the arabesque, thereafter rejected.

Thoughts of the ballet master’s cruelty drive on,
Heated by his heartless, fickle adagio,
Desperately, deceitfully taking,
Wanton, capricious.
Changements.

‘Flexible in his gait and movement, let us test his suppleness,
Twist and bend each limb, in preparation for a celebratory meal,
A date to exceed all others in its culinary wisdom and technique,
A veritable rond de jambon.’

A new laceration in the ballet begins,
He will accept my choice,
Blood driven pirouette.