My eyes hoard tears.
First, from pride,
Afraid to be weak
Under the Power.
Now, my tear hoard
Holds its treasure
For the Power’s pleasure.
The paddle cracks
Like thunder.
The Power’s pleasure
Is my pain.
My tears will come,
The Power’s glory,
But an easy tear
Mocks the Power.
An honest tear
Celebrates my
Suffering.
The paddle’s grain
Marks my flesh.
It is hard,
I am soft.
It draws color
From my skin,
Beauty
From my eyes.
A tear grows slowly.
Glistening like a gem,
The tear looks over
My cheek’s cliff
And plunges down.
A call goes forth,
A tear has fallen,
Its kin must follow.
A diamond string
Extends from my face
To a widening
Puddle below.
My hoard must
Yield its treasure.
All my tears
Fall.
No mercy asked,
No pity earned,
I offer my pain
To the Power
I worship, love, serve.
Opposites, we are, in
Perfect balance.
Dominant, submissive.
Owner, slave.
Sadist, sufferer.
My tears are my
Offering
Sacrifice
Service
Worship
Love.
