I always took to doubting myself
and so it was no surprise I did
again and again and again
when you had me under your fingertips.

That night I finally saw you,
after months of being apart,
you hoisted me up on your bed
and the look in your eyes seemed so foreign;
there was a hunger there I had never seen before.

I was a bit uncomfortable,
but I missed you so much I didn't care
to think on it further;
but your touch was different too,
and for a split second, I thought,
I'd almost jolt up and leave.

It was so bizarre to me,
you used to be so scared to have me to yourself,
and all of a sudden your hands
were no longer afraid, and,
your grip was a bit stronger than before;
I should have known something was wrong.

This was the closest I had ever come to
feeling like your prey,
and it wasn't right;
every other time you held me,
I could feel the restraint,
that you had chosen a gentle touch
instead of being so demanding,
and I thought that meant you loved me enough
to be delicate.

Was that the case?
Why, now, were you able to be different?
A mechanism like that shouldn't be so easy to switch on and off.

What happened?
Was it becoming too difficult to keep up your facade?
Did you even realize you didn't change back for me?
Why do I always doubt myself?