Possession

A breath.

Inhale.

The expansion of stardust in my lungs, the galaxies of oxygen swirling around like wisps of air and hurricane gusts, invisible, pervasive. Mind analytical, focused, examining, wondering, coiled tight and begging for release.

Slow.

What lives watches, and waits, in anticipation, consideration. The eyes from everywhere and nowhere; we are a part of this space now, tied into it and bound by something deeper than language, a yearning, a longing, to suffer and ache and bear witness, to degrade and violate this body, this spirit, offered freely to destruction and through destruction, redemption.

Then, touch.

A fragment of electrons meeting, skin to skin, expelling the breath from me like impact, my knees yearning toward the earth. That sound, is it coming from me? Gasp and throb build rhythm, the slightest pressure and I collapse into myself, dirt between my teeth as my lips touch the ground.

This is where I am meant to be. I hear the approval echoing in the shifting winds of my soul, a somber nod, a path chosen, a price named.

God, but I ache. I can map every inch of your skin and come up empty, yearning to explore and reexpore the boundaries of your flesh. Lips sense what hands missed, but this, this is something altogether different.

What do you taste in the air? Do you know, viscerally, that what you see before you is an anomaly, that you hold a wolf on a leash that does not tame? What you hold in your hands is a gift you have reminded me I carry, the capacity to give myself over for a moment, to your desire.

I am not this, nor anything, always. I am in moments, existing in fragments, remembering the capacity in breaking is the ability to hold different pieces and see them anew. Shattered does not mean I am not whole.

The wind rustles against the trees, and the leaves echo their response, the tension tangible in the shifting silence. The woods are watching and waiting, considering you, and me, in this space that they have lent for this moment, to see if we will meet ourselves, one another, in the darkness of possession.

What was external is now permeated, and the swirling, shifting winds are uprooting these thoughts, staccato aches flashing like daggers appearing and disappearing from deft hands that never know stillness. This is ache, to be owned for a moment, to be outside of control and watching, accepting, enduring what you offer, over and over, until you exhaust yourself against my skin.

I am malleable, in this moment. Your cruelty is your tenderness, watching your eyes harden as you place your hands behind my head and press against my throat. Possession, whispered on the winds. This is your sacrifice. This is, in this moment, where I belong, and I wonder if you know the power you hold, that I hold inside my skin and you violate with loving care, pressing between the cracks to open a chasm within.

You own me, now, for just a moment, if you can own a piece of the earth or the growth of a forest. For this brief slice of time where my knees have met the ground and the magnetic pull toward submission is stronger than the desire to fight, you own what was given freely to you. If your lips formed the word mineand let it break against the silence, I would know it for truth, and hear the surrender in your voice when you claimed the storm, the tempest and wolf that lay waiting at your feet.