I twirl the strap of my lacy red lingerie around my wrist,

It’s twin, I wrap around the capri of my man.

“Let this be the red string of fate…”

Image credit: www.elephantjournal.com

… that link two destined lovers.

The ineluctable heed no time, place nor circumstance;

It’s robusity conquers rain, shine, and ghastly storms.


Tattered but not torn,

Worn yet intact,

Knotted yet unbroken.


But is fate not a construct of human ingenuity?

A figment of desire, rationalisation of passion?

Still, fate is so apparent, so palpable, so definite.


I don my “string”.

And brush my lips along his broad, broad shoulders.

Fate, so. Tangible.

P.S: Choice of apparatus due lack of a physical red string

P.P.S: Events took place with the subject of my affection “on the throne”

P.P.P.S: Happy birthday, baby *insert heart emoji*