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truth. they own pieces of you I’ll never touchimpulsive moves, impulsive lovetheir reminders plain upon your skin, your heart, your tonguewhat is it that you really want?I fear I am too differentI wait in hesitation and old woundsI say nothing but I’m splitting myself right throughwith words of uncertainty and self hatred equally matched in
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you may not understand me how I have been conditioned made to go without, to accept longing as permanent to feel as if I was always too much in a world that likes control I believed them so I made my mouth tiny, my hands small, my back bent I held the words and desires
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There is a life I want. It’s very clear to me. It was not shared with anyone beyond a certain point. I was ok with it. You are here now and I am not sure where you fit. I never was but I was rewriting it as we went along as best I could. Even
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How did you know? How did you know how to touch my skin and hold my body with concentrated care, with a grip meant for harder things when required and softer when I am coming down from the mountain top, from the sun beams we soared together to meet? How did you know how to
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yours. it is not enoughto want metoo manyonly want no, you must huntand capture me and when I am caughtrip me apartsplit my limbsbefore devouring meturn my insides outand outsides inand then back togetheras you see fit so that I amrebornrecreatedby my captor, my owneras a thing that isdistinctly and perfectlyyours the blood& the bones
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struggle. Some days I am solid, stable. I am blood, bone and belonging. Human and unbroken. One part mine. One part theirs. One part yours. And some days I feel as if I am no longer tangible. An object that cannot be held. Just sand through fingers. Still words and ideas. Still rage and lust.
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alive. at firstI was all that was beautifulbut then I leftas I said many times that I wouldand once you understoodI’d never returnsomehow I then became the blood in your mouththe dirt under your fingernailsthe cut on your tonguesomehow I was nowthe pang in your chest and the burn in your throatof the spirits that
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anew. each time you thinkmy tongue has never been so sweet, so eagermy hips never so invitingbut I am your cradleyour vessel of renewalmade to hold youmade to rock and away together in this ritualI am the place you come to lose and find yourselfto restore what they continually takerest here as long as you
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I could not stop. It did not work that way. So I sat with my arms overflowing with it in a room full of windows and watched as life moved ever on even when I was only able to sit still. the blood & the bones
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finally. I have been mine for so longa solitary stara singular beingthat being ownedbecoming someone’s someoneshould feel foreign, unnatural to mebut with you it is easya natural progressiona slip into submissionas if I have never journeyed aimlesslyas if every road carried meto this belonging the blood& the bones We are balanced. His masculinity matches all
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The Blood & The Bones 