how far have I fallen?

I can't see anything except for you,

but you turn away. you hide your eyes.

I guess I was expected to run and hide

but I've seen your temper work,

your hands on my throat and hips;

I wore your bruises, your frustration, your terror

with pride and glory: all these broken bones

just so you would see me.

I don't sleep; there isn't any need

my peace of mind comes from your pretty face

dangerous to my self-control even lost in dreams.

I can't concentrate when you're so close

trying to rationalize your ambition and the

the betrayal and the jealousy you commanded;

I wasn't allowed to talk, to look, to sleep

kept pressed to your heart so I would suffocate,

but better to die of you than without you.

wearing your skin on my bones--

you pulled me in this far and now you expect

that you won't be held responsible for my idolatry?

I guess faux narcissism is doing you good.

your tongue is accented like a

sweet spanish question mark

and I can't escape believing in your false promises.

maybe it's the voice, the eyes, the searching hands

all physical things that don't compare to the sanctity

given to me by just your words sweet-n-low in my ears.

I have to believe in something, it may as well be you

(you didn't mean to make it this easy for me)

and you should know before I pretend to go

I am not afraid of your s&m retribution - of you

you told me not to be so reserved, to take what I need

consider this your taking.

god knows I’ve failed but I’ve never been weak

and I’ve never lied to myself the way you do

face it, boy: there ain’t a word in any language

that could fix what we are. irrevocable, tied up together

chains from my hips to your lips, a perfect position

for happy hellions--two strangers, bound.

yeah, I may not have your blue blood silkiness,

your ability to take the scene and twist it to match your cruelty,

but nobody’s ever been able to match my intensity.

you say we’re smarter than the rest--shared dictionaries of theology,

of charm and penance. the duality of redemption and retribution,

and who can say which is which?

you say you know exactly what you want--well, so do I,

and for once it seems like I’m the one in control.

so don’t waste your cigarette rages on me;

I will not run from you.