Sunday, July 5, 2009

Internal Dialogue

Your fingertips curl around
the long dark threads of spun
satin of impenetrable black
the one finger spins this hair
absently innocently
when fingers grasp greedy and vicious
forcing his head down closer inside
an insistent command unspoken he finds
impossible to belay
his head held fast in thrall, locked
in a vise like grip
that continues tightening slowly

With a soft voice experienced words
experienced hands your objections he had
pushed aside overruled in the court of your
darkest self where denials start as no
change and end in

escaping your lips in a hoarse rush
as fingertips brush lightly against
and again travelling upwards
and down with a will then away
purposefully moving
creating an aching separation
you pine longing after but a
moment tensing, wishing
silently pleading for a
return to that feather’s brush
so delicate
so fully intended for one purpose
amasterful pattern repeated
seemingly endlessly
tortuously holding back at
just that moment when a slight shift away
brings a protesting breath
in a moment eternal

Refusing to be a toy to be
plucked, played at another’s whim
your fist closes and pulls
forcing him
to act upon your whim to act
as any obedient to your will should
after spasms rippling through and
unconscious screams of that final
you realize that though locked in
unable to move
your mastery is only a pretense
when you then let go
an unexplainable euphoria
envelops you as you
close your eyes finally
giving in to your
darkest self

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