Martina now has left us;
It's like she is dead.
That's how I would like her:
Limp upon my bed.
She would not protest,
She wouldn't need a gag
When I removed her corpse
From the body bag.
I would still handcuff her
Hands behind her back.
Her tits look at their best
When she's pushing out her rack.
I could manipulate her
Any way I choose.
Safe in the certain knowledge
That the dead don't bruise.
I wouldn't have to worry
About lubrication.
Her flesh would move enough
After putrefication.
And when her skin is hanging off
And I can't bear the smell,
What's left would be a perfect treat
At lunch for feeding Belle.
Belle is Martina's dog, for those that don't know.
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