Without

"I am a whore." "I am your whore"
I was relieved when he finally made me say it
The weight lifted
I said it again as he fucked me, touching my face.
Sweat dripping from him, he held me to look into his eyes
"I'll do whatever you want"
It might as well have been "I love you".
It is no longer sex for me, its hallucination
Its this moment where I am without.
Without fear, or shame. I have nothing.
No mind, no heart, I am only a body. A body that is only conscious and alive because he wills it.
To be lost.
Filling all of me.
He's an addict, a liar, selfish, unfinished
Emotionally destroyed
But in these moments I have no capacity for knowing.
I only have to offer exactly what he asks of me.
Between the riding crop, the flogger, and his ever-swinging hand I am comforted by the trophies I will carry.
He pauses
For a moment we catch eyes, remembering we still exist
He holds himself above me trapped
I wipe the sweat from his face
My fingers through his hair
He leans forward, his movements hesitant, more conscious
The feelings seeping in to fill the craved emptiness
He kisses me
Easy
And something sat inside it
A pit of something undisclosed but felt undeniably
I recognized it, like a memory dug up and all of a sudden vibrant and vivid
When we were particularly needing,
Particularly close and clinging to what was left, he'd look up at me with that sad desperation
The misery in longing for something he couldn't say
Knowing if he did he wouldn't have the means to hold it
There was a time I though this was love
Maybe it was
But its love you remember not that you keep
Not that stays
And even if it wanted to you'd never let it.