Spilled Ink from the Vault

Discreet, but nonetheless a collar,
this pretty restraint was intended 
as a sign of ownership, a display
of your devotion, a reminder
of my Dominance as Queen 
of your body and mind, your time,
your choices. The irony is searing,
its arrival today a slap to the face.

- you don’t own him - 
it mocks
- and you know you never did.
He let you have a loan, a test drive,
a library book already held by other hands
and scanned by other eyes, and you 
dived headlong
	into
		the
			narrative,
immersed (yourself) in the role, 
a method actor, and the play became
indistinguishable from reality. 
You thought you’d learned that elusive skill.
Do you remember calling it refreshing
and liberating to uncouple desire and pleasure
from romance and relationship? 
Is it really so surprising you caught feelings?
Like a doctor tending an infectious patient
without mask nor gloves nor gown,
you probed his history, palpated his body,
asked him questions that would make another blush,
(intimate examinations) all the while his warm breath
dusted your own skin - 
The sundering was inevitable, the fall of the city,
and then the breach of the walls, and the capture
of the keep. Even a trilogy of extended versions
ends eventually, leaving quotable lines, visions 
of moving scenes replayed in your imagination,
feelings, lessons, even healing
alongside new wounds.

The collar would always have been removed,
but I imagined you’d keep it in a drawer, 
like that slip, a fond memory of connection
and novel experiences, and maybe one day 
you’d show it to her, alongside a wistful recount
of temporary beauty, and maybe she’d decide to fasten it
about your ankle, now a sign of her own royalty,
her own dominion, but a thoughtful nod
to a long-usurped Queen who trained you well
and contributed something to the calibre of servitude
you now offered her.

Instead, it will now live in my drawer,
and whilst yours will not be the last body I command,
I cannot imagine that any of them will ever prove worthy
of the collar once intended for my good boy.