He is staring at me,
I can feel his piercing  eye,
stripping right through me,
And I can’t break the stare,
Just before the wrestle,
I am the Price.

His muscles bow in protrude,
Like arrow roots just above the tube,
He flexes that ebony muscle,
And my eyes with every motion move,
I am the price

He hauls his opponent to the ground,
He knows an equal challenger is around,
And can’t underestimate him or be proud,
But the wind has changed course bound

The wind blows stronger,
The opponent  has grown in hunger,
He can no longer control his anger,
For the price.

He is on the ground now,
Biting dust but blocking the blow,
adding him colour as he sinks low,
Our eyes meet once more as a flow
It’s the price
Mine teary and imploring Him,
To summon the strength within him,
He frowns them his face breaks to a beam

My eyes can no longer follow,
When he floors His opponent in the hollow,
My view is blurry and unfocused burrow,
The shouts are deafening loud as a harrow,
I am the price

A white linen clears my view,
the smell of dust and sweat awakens reverie ,
A broad smile meets my eye view
My heart skips a beat from the review,
He won, my prince won just for me
He has made me the trophy .




Its a pleasure reading your leave-in

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