Only I can fix me
But I have given up
Life is ******* everyone
But I have had enough.

Uncover your face
I am sick of knuckles
with glistening whites
showing through the cracks.

You can't hide from me any more.

I adore you.

To you,
It's all intentional.
Every touch, every gesture
Has a purpose and a connection
To the bigger picture.
You take your time
Because it's more than just motion
It's a building of emotion
That is processed in ecstasy.
You're gentle
Because I'm not just a body,
I'm a person who is experiencing
It all with you.

I am both the wound,
And the blade. The torturer,
And he who is flayed.

The old man mumbles in a dying voice
had my sons been alive.

A tear wells in the daughter's eyes.

She pours a spoon of water in his mouth
and wipes his lips and her eyes.

Having lit the pyre of his three sons
he was willing to barter his daughter's life
if that made God grant him another son
and here is the daughter by his bedside
feeding, cleaning and even shaving him
her only prayer to God being to save his life
bartering her entire means.

Outside the thunder cracks the sky
and she spreads a tarpaulin over the bed.

my son laments the father.

Inside her is no cover for rain.