Wearing My Darkness

This man who wears my darkness stands aloof,       
Before me in the shadows;  I atone:      
His stare assures me he's the living proof  
That lust is ever present: his hands roam  
Until they find the bra clip to unclasp;      
He'll slap my breasts, so both tits are alert            
To violent force - he'll have me cry and gasp;            
He stops me in my tracks; I know this hurt            
Too well, but crave indulgence; I aspire  
 To discipline that aches; and, if he stings     
My nipples with harsh pinches, soon entire    
Breaths will hide in lungs; he's crude and brings            
Anxieties to mind, long unaddressed:      
Save by the man who's wearing my darkness.