The book.

We’re all just a whole bunch of
 stories,

but I wouldn’t mind

you
 unbinding

the spine
 of all my “one day"s

and wrapping
 your fingers around

the body of
 all that I contain

underneath 
this skin.

I would not mind

sinking
 into

the story of you,

reaching 
inside your pages,

weathering the
 edges of the words

I would not mind

being
 made a part of you.

Your name is
 already

so deeply etched into this
 binding.

I don’t think I could ever


get tired of this story.

It's become my favorite book...

the prisoner

Domination. 

Monopolization. 

Handcuffed to the bed.

Overruled

Silence baby,

shhh...not a word. 

submission

compliance

passion in overdrive. 

kiss after kiss

order after order...

And my prisoner gives in.

Scars

You have tattoos that lace your arms,

And one on your back. 

Soft lips and beautiful hands,

And a laugh that can stop time. 

Your left arm is scarred with stories 

that you carved in times of sadness. 

I remember the first time I saw them,

I traced the lines with my fingers

and fell in love with your strength. 

You are a hero for living from those moments to this one.
You never need to apologize for how you chose to survive. 

Your body is a map I know every inch of,
and if anyone else were to kiss me,
all they would taste is your name...