“Master of my heart,”

she whispered in her sleep.

I listened, wondering.

So different than what she said

When she was wide awake.

Then, these moments were all

Just an exploration of human sexuality.

Not romance, and certainly not love.

An experiment, and nothing more.

But here, in her dark candlelit room

When she was lost in her dreams

And spent at last from what wasn’t

“Making love” – now, it was a whispered

“Master of my heart,”

With her hand over mine.

I smiled, and gathered her close, and breathed

“Mistress of my heart,”

into her pointed ear.

And watched as her lips

curved in a smile.

**2

This poem is part of Just Jot It January, where today’s prompt is “master.” For those who know me, this poem won’t be a surprise. =)

To read more #JusJoJan posts, click the link above, or visit the hashtag.

Till next time…