I’d be hard pressed
not to tell you what a doe-eyed
impression you leave:
silk chest, moans
to emasculate yourself
and the way
your mouth dropped open
when I opened the door.
that I recorded.
when you smiled, twisted my nerves
searing sheath, uncovering,
I’ll remember that.

I’m looking up at you
about to laugh
but know better,
learned to lie still in
quake. I spend days
rehearsing affection
in the mirror.
your hands are kind of
loose
around my neck even though
you said you’re boss.
you’re honest to god
the sweetest, warmest thing
I’ve ever met.
I grab your forearm
and dig my nails in.
practicing being
pithy about certain things,
guarded,
I snap my teeth shut.
please.

I’m trying not
to laugh.
my knees hurt.
my chin is cupped by
your palms.
your hand is loose
around my neck
I say it again,
harder.
hit me.
please.
choke me.
kill me.
fuck.

“the masochist”