Armour Poem by empty shell

Armour



Don't worry mo Anam Cara, just stand behind me
Brush your hair upon my spine
Trail your tongue along my ribs
I’m waiting for the pain

As your nails touch my back, I'm caught off guard, as always
Welts down my spine are swelling
My back now throbbing fire
Red, underneath your nails

I raise my hands to the gods, you lower yours to me
Chain mail slides into place
Cold, hard, metal, sooths the pain
All a pool of pleasure

I am thrust alert, as you slam armour to my legs
Greaves placed tight against my shins
You fasten all the buckles
Strapping to steel

Elbow slams my kidneys and I drop, on to my knees
You look down at me with love
My breastplate held in your hands
Crashes my shoulders

I see your bosom heave as your teeth sink to my neck
You brush away the spittle
A gorget will hide the rest
Cold metal caress

My loins begin to stir, my hips circled by your hand
Round tuille clamped into place
Clasp pinching my waist skin hard
Pain invades my head

I quickly rise and tower, iron clad, above you
Pushing you towards our bed
I slide on my metal gloves
Brush away your tear

Don't worry Mo Anam Cara, you have dressed me well
Every strap and buckle done
With kind and loving harshness
I now have, the helm

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success