30 September 2017


By Bud Koenemund

For K.

My hand was made to fit around your throat,
Enjoying the warmth of caramel skin,
Denying breath as my tongue darts and floats
Over flesh, blissfully drinking you in.
I squeeze, while you gasp, clutching at my wrist;
Mind struggling ‘gainst body’s desire,
A loss of control neither can resist –
Surrendering to burn in this fire;
The passion raging ‘til la petite mort
Erupts with a maelstrom of ecstasy;
Our pleasure and pain thunder as we court
That death before collapsing breathlessly.
   Domination and submission feed lust,
   But love matures in these displays of trust.

17 September 2017


By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You ask why I will not respond to calls;
Leaving communication neglected;
Letting silence greet appeals, as love falls
Discontented, and spirit’s infected?
Your indifference pierced my heart countless times.
Though, I confess, I granted admittance
To thy blade; an accomplice in these crimes;
Guilty, somehow, for want of resistance.
Still, you endure as muse: a soul’s agony –
Equal parts torment and inspiration –
Your face lingering in memory;
Ecstasy through pain: my devil’s bargain.
   Affection withered afflicted by lies;
   Yet, feigning ignorance, you ask me why?