You were there.

When I forced out my last breath of air. In this rustic room, this tranquil chamber. You handled that gasp like a stillborn child inside your arms; took it ever gentle. Though I know all too well, you house a savage craving. One that nourishes on the iridescence of my skin. Redemption always was a doubtful matter between us.

I knew your sentiments. As if they were my own.

The first blow had me trembling. Like a knife that settled violently in my back. I wanted more. The second one girdled, several times around my hips, stowing away into my depths.

Take. Me, I am yours.

The ardor grew unbearable; the yearning too grand. Your fingers forced me. Down to the ice of the bone-chilling floor, quenching underneath. Every blow led. Me along and around. To that singular point. When all our cries become both surreal and divine, in the same time.

Beat. Harder. Break. Me.

It was my blood. Gave red to your lips. It was your tongue that made me wait. Then in a fractal second had me roar like thunder, bulging in an all destroying storm. Damned. Women. The pair of us. Bound and gagged. By the attraction that locks us deep. Within our common cage. By the pain. Drives us mad with wanting this.

In that chamber. Where we found ourselves. Weakened, and distanced. Yet you took me into your arms as if I’d be there perpetually. Like the stillborn. You killed.

In a dream so unsurpassable that I almost ran out of air. But you have made me breathe. Eventually.                                                                                           

(1999)