You kneel, body held erect Like the Catholic schoolgirl you used to be. My eyes are drawn, as always, to the hollow of your throat. If I should lay my fingertip against it There'd be the fluttering pulsebeat Of the wings of a nightingale, in its gilded cage. You have grown thin, and your fragile collarbone Stretches through your silken skin, Seeming like it would snap At the touch of my hand. I step forward, brushing your chestnut hair away. It falls behind you, baring a gentle fullness of breast, Small enough to fit in a cupped hand... Taut with anticipations. I lean, and press a kiss on one hardened nipple. You arch, soundlessly as I taught you, And I drink in the elegant curve of your torso, with your slender arms stretched back, clasping your ankles firmly. I start rubbing the other nipple with my right hand, While I increase the pressure of my kiss, Harder and harder... Until finally you break, as always, and the tiniest of moans escapes. I stop. Reach out and caress the supple whip. Regretfully, joyfully, anticipating the new lines of fire That I will add to the thin, white, beautiful scars Crossing your eager body.