The Blood & The Bones

He missed that life. The one that left dried blood under his fingernails and adrenaline pumping through him like lightening. And I was something like that for him. But now the blood would be mine and the feeling of control and violence would be doled out as needed. I was the soft place to land, the receptacle for pain, the willing and able place to deposit what he could not understand in the form of behavior modification, control and primal sexual rage. And I fucking loved it. To be needed by a man like that. A man that needs no one. To take his pain, one slap, one hit, one bite, one bruise at a time. I lived for it. And he lived on because of it.

the blood

& the bones