She-Lord

Words drip off my tongue like a hungry dog 

At your porcelain toes I whimper 

Soliloquies, all of which you've heard before 

Your legs crossed indefinitely you ask me for a glass of water and I stand only to hand you my bowl 

Watching you drink, thoughts of children float through my mind

How lucky they should be to possess those lips!

Without looking down you toss what's left on the floor 

Oblivious to the salivating beast at your bedside 

Lapping your waste off the ground 

And yet, maybe not so.