posted on Sep, 12 2015 @ 12:58 PM
Written for a friend caught in sub/dom.
Like rigid perfume
her essence is closed,
delight only imagined.
Love making by numbers,
the bigger picture obscured,
what puzzle is this,
where do the pieces go.
Soft, gentle, hard ...
all instruments of passion.
love only hinted at.
to maintain the illusion
of control by constructs,
So much shame,
hurt by others who blame.
Self talk from the condemning voice,
the accuser bringing up the past.
Failures branded into soft flesh,
marks of disgust,
memories with fragile trust,
searing soul pain.
A pain deeper than marrow,
anger hidden in the joints,
lust that demands obedience,
“surrender” it whispers.
Life lived on the edge,
holding on to a rope,
bound to another
by a single thread.
Empowered by shame and self hate,
hurt me it pleads in imagined guilt,
let my surrender cleanse me,
and release me from this agony.
Let the enormity of my sense of worthlessness
disappear in the ecstasy,
let my pleasure overwhelm
my reluctance at least for the moment.
Punishing my self by the hand of another
seems just and necessary.
I am not guilty for surrendering to my lust
if someone takes away my responsibility.
Command me, demand me, control me ...
the mantra of the unresolved.
Self bullying needs no other voice,
a look in the mirror confirms it.
Who will break this lovely soul
out of her prison,
who will silence the condemning voice
and restore the beauty of intimacy?
Child at your mother's breast,
little girl proud of her new dress,
smiling at those that recognize
she is now a woman.
You were made by an act of passion
you were given the gift of passion,
passion is a blessing given to you
by the creator to be enjoyed.
You owe no one
it remains a free gift for you.
Embrace your passion
and share with those you love.