I  miss you calling my name, while I'm right there - pulling your hair.
Getting you all hot and tired and messy.
tears in those eyes, as temperatures rise.
Make-up all over my neck, pillows, and flesh.
What started with a peck,
turned to nibbling on your neck,
Then bit your ear,
Pulled you near,
Now you are running out of breathe.
Teasing me,
This is what punish meant.
Dripping wet.
Clothes on the floor,
Bed sheets soaked in wet.
You whispered, "Hurt me!"
Said it so silently,
but so sexually.
Guess
you
were
testing
me.

The world around me: Day after day it looks the same.
I hear the noise of the workers drilling in the basement
and watch people doing their business.
Here or anywhere other, it's the same.

Sometimes I think I am trapped. Trapped in former decisions;
decisions which always tend to reveal their full impact later.
I think about the mistakes I made and regret - what futile task
as past always stays past, petrifying words yelled and unspoken.

I'm not ungrateful - given my past suffering.
I'm not moaning - given freedom from my former pain.
I'm not unhappy - given that I was already happier tough.
I'm not doing nothing - given that it may look different to you.

Finally I got rid of this **** anxiety, which haunted me
from my first days at school to my last job,
these devastating thoughts of having to be better than everyone,
of being more, of deserving more
they just ate away at my soul
tearing myself apart
before hyenas did
their part.