PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Still an adolescent, he believed he was

loved by a man who repeatedly slapped him

around, leaving bruises and welts; until

you showed him that love was a gentleness,

with mutual pleasure only.  The bruises are

gone; the man who placed them there was

found, dangling by the neck from a rope

flung over the sturdy limb of an ancient

tree.  The police said he must have suffered

much in those final moments, the rapid

jerking of his legs (his hands having been

tied by someone), as his life expired,

leaving his hard face purpled, and his

abusive tongue blackened; a lynching by

person or persons unknown, the coroner

declared, closing the thin file before

stepping out for a sandwich at lunchtime.

But the marks have faded, the injuries

have healed, and the bad memories have

receded a bit (they will never vanish

entirely).  And now this beautiful young

man stands before you, naked except for a

pair of black ankle socks with gray

toes.  His long chestnut hair is a bit

disheveled; his smile no longer hesitant.

His full engorgement throbs to his slightly

accelerated pulse.  And you ask yourself---

was every such a gorgeous, juvenescent males

enjoyed so intimately before; and who are

you to be admitted to his love and embrace,

receiving his sweetstuff in your most private place?

Starward*Led