Watercolor: ‘Scourge and skin’ on stretched canvas

 
Your eyes glint hot  
in the cold moonlight.  
I forget myself when you use  
my body as a canvass  
and I submit beneath your  
rugged caress  
 
because sex isn't always about sex  
 
I found the  
stars shine down  
in envy  
at the way your marks  
break through the  
sky of my skin;  
and how jealous  
are the drifting clouds  
of the way your  
lips brush my  
beautiful body  
 
I meet your eyes,  
a flash of  
fire tasting fire  
across a space,  
a testimony  
before the universe  
of an indisputable truth:  
 
that the way  
I want you  
is not  
something born  
of sky and stars,  
and the sprinkling hope  
of the universe  
dappled like rain  
on my soft shoulders  
 
the way I want you is skin,  
and pain,  
and lust,  
and the perfect way  
you twist me up  
until I'm sure I'm going to  
crash-land  
into torment  
 
and then I do.  
 
and then I do…  
 
and you're there  
to lick the pain from the  
corners of my eyes  
as I put the pieces  
back together  
for you to  
pull apart  
one more time  
 
The strain on my arms  
has them shaking;  
and sweat from  
the exertion  
of accepting  
your blows  
 
trickles down  
my angry skin  
 
making your artistry  
sting  
rage  
hurt  
 
(god it hurts)  
 
you take my throat in your hand  
and eat my need  
like flavored sin  
and it’s not enough  
 
It’s.  
Not.  
Enough.  
 
(I need…)  
 
(I need…)  
 
Not more.  
 
Not more.  
 
I need to watch you  
fuck me  
from outside  
my body;  
for my life to lie  
somewhere  
between your hands  
and your cock  
with nothing real  
past the  
pleasurepain you  
deal in strokes.  
 
nothing real  
but you  
and the way  
you  
drive my need  
drive my body  
rip my soul in  
half like a  
tight  
wet cunt  
while we pant  
against my  
perfect  
flesh like  
rutting dogs  
 
nothing more than  
my clenched jaw  
and corded neck  
as your teeth damage  
more than my psyche  
and the soft  
virgin skin of  
my inner thigh  
takes your  
defilement  
like a goddamn  
gift  
 
If I can crawl away  
from your easel,  
 
If I can make this  
shaking form  
find meaning  
in a blackout  
curtain of night  
 
then it wasn’t  
 
enough.  
 
I don't want more,  
darling,  
 
I don't want fucking more;  
 
I want it all.