Play me
he pleaded
and she conceded,
trickle a tune
along my spine
make thee mine.
I’ll make you whine
she promised him
and so she played him
then she laid him
then she splayed him.
She teased the sheets
she scorched the score
and she nibbled on notes
he never even knew existed
and then she left him, lying there
broken, battered and gasping for air
pleading with her
to stop and save him
as she walked away
singing a solo.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 
That’s good!
Thanks Jane, I’ve no idea where the idea came from but sometimes you gotta let the pen to the talking and just enjoy the journey I guess. Hope you are well
Okay thanks. The best poems are the ones that write themselves 🙂
Off home to Dublin now for the holidays so a very Merry Christmas to you and your family Jane
Thank you, you too. Blow a kiss to the Liffey for me 🙂