What do you want? The voice
whispers so silkily, so seductively
in my ear. What do I want? I want
you to quiet this buzzing in my brain.
I want you to slow me down. Force
me to listen, to focus. To wait. Make me
learn patience. Make me feel the
trembling apprehension, the quivering
excitement. I want you to lead me,
a step at a time, down the winding road
of trust. Let the silent padding of my
bare feet follow behind you until you
could loose the rope and I’d keep
walking. And then, when we’re there,
I want you to witness my vulnerability,
see me for who I really am. Stroke the
threads that make up the secret core
of me. Pluck them, and make them
chime. Torment me, degrade me,
show me how I can please you. Let
me crawl for you; crawl to you. Let
me stare into your eyes and see
cruelty and compassion, mercy and
ruthlessness. Hard edges and soft
warmth. Hands to mold me and a mind
to twist me up and leave me pliant.
Obsequious. Submissive. That’s what
I want.
