Midnight Velvet Suit by Duchess Clothier

It is Wednesday, the smack middle of the week. For three decades, I’ve yearned for a velvet suit, and am now happily clothed in a glorious midnight velvet suit with self-covered buttons and a whisper of a magenta silk lining …while you’re adorned in a short jacket and plus fours fashioned from yesterday’s newspapers, yellowing and brittle, the stories folded over and over covering your skin. I stroke my thigh, from tender bony knee to silicone cock, the velvet pile soft beneath my rough fingertips, and glance over. You look ravenous, drooling slightly, so I offer you a bite of pain d’épices that I made earlier in the day. You open your lips, and I place the spicy cake upon your pink tongue.
Come tell me your story to unload your glorious grief
Where you are the valet of honour and I am the thief
And don’t ever mention the stains that you left on my track
How from a beautiful girl I became someone ruined and wrecked
It was all in your back
All in your back”

(By Keren Ann Zeidel)

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