Gentle

Lover, lay there,
with your honed
blade in your mouth,
while I trail
butterfly-light kisses
on each scar
in your
bodymindsoul

so that you know how
beautiful they are

so that you know how
beautiful you are

Lay there, lover,
skin prickled in gooseflesh
wondering where I might
touch next,
let me pin your hands,
and pretend
I could hold you
down if I wanted to.

I’m going to stare at
your perfections,
so closely,
my eyelashes
dust your skin.
I’m going to stare at you
as if you were the first molten
moon crawling against
a new world.

In awe.

Lover, let me
take the blade from
your mouth,
and cut you anew
on each ragged edge
Stay still and flinch,
do that sexy thing
in the back of your throat
when it hurts,
but let me, lover.  
let me.

Let me hurt you
slowly,
and claim you
with soft hands
softer lips
and hard steel.
Let me cut deep,
and ride shallow,
so that we’re covered in
bloodsweatmagic

and shaking.

Let me be gentle,
lover,
so that every scar
reminds you
of me.

Lover let me.