Withdrawal

When I withdraw my hand and push her hair
Right away from her face, a veil lifts
Her mouth is open, needing my affair
To be thrust in and to give her such gifts
As she has grown accustomed to; she’s trained
To suit my needs, perfected by the slaps
That I’ve applied relentlessly; her pained
And anxious looks have faded and, perhaps
The faintest smile appears at any threat
I may well choose to utter; I berate
Her angrily from time to time and set
New goals for her to reach; an obstinate
Young wench like this is not one to ignore
But one to use insistently, the whore