In the stable

In the stable

Tied to the door
even less than the horse
who knows his freedom there

you breathe in the scent of manure
sweat, and pure physical strength
when my whip caresses your back

The stable grows fainter and fainter
and with every crack you hear my laughter
while your body crumples in pain
your mind is freed from the madness of the day…

© Mrs Moriah
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