Poem

[Bl****]

The Dance of Rope and Trust
In quiet rooms where whispers start,
A rope can bind, but more, it’s art.
Each knot a vow, each pull a plea,
A hidden world of “you and me.”
The blindfold falls, the senses wake,
Control is given, not to take.
Between the ***, a tender sigh,
A question asked, a soft reply.
It’s not the leather, whip, or chain,
But trust that runs through every vein.
For in surrender, hearts ignite,
Two souls entwined in shadowed light.