#51

Night slowly steals your consciousness

and your heart beats in the slowest pace

Here you are - and your nakedness

is ruined only with a tight black lace

Now the tale of heavy breath

of you biting your own fists

is told only by the sweat

and by ropemarks on your wrists

So sleep well my little girl

and let this promise be a warning:

a precious necklace made of pearl

I will give you come the morning