the beauty of darkness
is the absence
of shame
and the possibility
of
everything else.
“No, don’t turn on the light. Stand there.”
You are silhouette in my door.
I am a voice in the room.
“Strip.”
You do. Of course you do.
“Turn around.”
I watch you make a slow, almost timid, turn in place. There is just enough light for me to take in your naked curves.
“Good girl.”
“Now come in.”
“And close the door.”
you like to hold
your cup
like it might
shatter
if I speak.
I noticed today
that you put
all the glassware
behind the cereal
so I’m waiting
to see
if you ask me
for milk.
“No, don’t move.”
My words rest precariously upon your skin.
You sway. Teeter.
It is hard to stand with your ankles bound tightly together.
And my fingers curled deep inside you from behind.
And my teeth nipping the edge of your ear.
And my cock pressing rigid and hot against your thigh.
But I expect you to do it anyway.
choked
on my words
placed
so delicately
upon your tongue
you are taught
to respect
prohibitions
by force
“what will you do
when my reach is so long
I can pluck your sins
like over-ripe cherries?”
your answer
is no answer at all
because you cannot speak
with my words
filling
and burning
your mouth
you
are placed.
for you, I create
sanctuary
a sacred
space
with dark corners
to hide in
a pedestal
to stand
bared
(exposed)
upon
light
to dance
within
stained-glass windows
to shatter
my hands
to hold
care
and
ply
you
you
are placed.
to know
your place