THE YEAR OF THE FLING

In the year of the fling

She thought she knew what she was doing

So she kept things light

A jar, whose lid needed unscrewing

Running fast from the past

Hellbent on having a blast

Never felt a thing

In the year of the fling

At the time of the spree

She believed she had it all together

But by month number 3

She lived for alcohol and leather

Metal clips, restraints

The secret lives of the saints

Holy unbecoming

In the year of the fling

Freedom found her face down in a corset

Happiness is fleeting you can’t force it

At the peak of her binge

A twinge of fear came to unnerve her

But she mastered that

And it served to pervert her further

So what’s left to explore

When you’ve unhinged the door

The downside of a swing

In the year of the fling