She will tame me, she cant blame me, when I put a smile upon her face.
He will paw me, he will claw me, but there's still an empty space.
Slow haunting whispers, I can feel her on my ear.
His breath, his warmth, the ever growing fear.

...Like a simpson, I change colour
The ink seeps on to the floor.

Do I stay and feel heart ache?
Or open that cage door?

He comes closer, puts his head against my heart,
A gentle pur, a silent thump, a misfit in the dark.
I reach out, then pull back, scared of his loathsome bite,
Not for lust, or need, or want, but an unworded fight.

It grows within me, like the locks on his mane,
Entwining round, engulfing me; is this what you call sane?
He bares his teeth, but not in anger, a gentle, sweet, supression,
Our eyes will lock, a growl will pass...

A fiery-tempered tension


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Credit to Sarah Larking, who wrote this with me.