untitled ~ {to my sadist}  

{iii}
i find comfort in my bruised skin, answers to an
existential crisis
i've been having since the age four & started wondering
if secrets
would always weigh infinitely more than the little bones
beneath my skin.
some would think it strange how your fist against my jaw
became a safety blanket,
how i stop feeling so small & insignificant when i am
screaming in agony while you laugh...
... god, you laugh so beautifully when i suffer. if they saw
your joy
they would understand

{ii}
they never explained that fucking could be like communion,
how someone could flay me wide open & expose my rawness
with something as simple as forced eye contact when all i want
is to close myself, shutter the vulnerability you gorge on...
... there's nowhere to hide with you, no way to avoid
confronting shadows that linger.

{i}
you withdraw
with increasing frequency, hands shaking, eyes wet,
like you're almost sorry though have yet to form an apology
with those harsh lips.
there is no room for your shame in the cradle of my hips,
not when you're pouring your soul into me.
there's never anything to forgive.