Yours, mine, (h)Ours

Where does the power lie,

when a body is a body, 

but words are glass shards made for bleeding?

Where does my pleading lead me, 

when I express the need that I feel, 

as I kneel down and peel myself

to please you?

Is it easier to feed you

with appeasement, 

or should the winter of truth

destroy what the summer birds sing?

For when I bring my bones to you

on the boundary of risk,

I know best to resist

with my heart full of fists,

the carnelian dew of your eyes.

*** Part of 10-minute short series (setting a timer and seeing what I can write) - obviously pretty shit but some fun power dynamic ideas to play with