Watching

He's waiting for me now.
Eyes shuttered in the moonlight, arms raised to hold me.
His skin like molten lava on my bed.

He's walking to me now.
Every step he takes is an earthquake.
Every move a celestial dance.

I hate him there, looking like a god to me.
I hate the need I feel to please him, the need I feel to have him.
I hate the darkness he puts in my eyes, the shadow he stirs in my soul.


I love him here, kneeling before me.
I love his breath, and the heat from his hands on me.
I love the look of desperation he gives me and the power I wield over him.

He hates me now, frustration in every line of his body.
He hates that I control him, that he's begging at my feet.
He hates the chains I bind him in, their unseeable, unknowable, unbreakable links wrapped tight around his mind.

He loves me always, the velvet of his lips trailing up my thighs.
He loves the way I make him beg, the way I lock him to me.
He loves his soul, the one he gave me, the one I'm keeping shadow bound.