Dishelving

"Why do you trust me so much?" He ask searching my eyes as his knife searches for fear in my skin.
It is difficult to explain the way his eyes utter so many words with out a whisper. How I know he will hurt me, but not with a blade, not this way.
In part I wish that the blade had been worthy to save me the hell I now live.
It is a silence that lacks answers or premoniton. An unknown I long too know.
I am no longer young, growing into nothingness, toying with notions.
I am deshelved and damned to love the weak and remain strong.
I am simply waiting for your mind to make up what your soul allready knows.

"Because I know I'm safe, my heart is sound and so I lay my soul beneath you without a shred of doubt." I whisper.

He smiles... the blade finds me at my peak, his lips brush mine inhaling the taste of my moan, relishing the knowledge that he is not bound to limits or chains. I am chained to his every desire, loving the unknown.....