Her Gift
By lenchenelf
Mon, 09 Sep 2019
- 968 reads
2 comments
Embroidered veil dropped as a whisper,
ripples of shock fell heavy
with wave upon tumult of her hair,
loosed to fall, flow, unbound;
carpet their hallowed ground of masculinity.
Perfumed ointment was an afterthought
there to cleanse the dust from old ideas.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
I like the way it shifts with
I like the way it shifts with those last two lines. We're used to seeing this story presented as pure submissive devotion - good to see a different, beautifully realised take.
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