Self Inflicted

Never was I into masochism
Pain was never my thing


With you, I had what Merriam Webster so eloquently calls “a taste for suffering” and my suffering must be seasoned with Lawry’s because it feels so damn good and I couldn’t stop partaking of its bitterness

Because my imagination kept flagellating itself with pictures of possibilities of you, me and nothing but space and opportunity

A quick flash of me crawling to you on my knees so you can fuck my face once I finally reach you

A vivid picture of me dancing for you while I strip slowly, longingly until you can’t stand it since you can smell my excitement from across the room

A memory of you tying the last of the restraints before you set up the video camera on my face so you can record every expression your tongue is about to give me

But every masochist needs a sadist

I needed you to be Marquis de Sade and inflict the pain of rejection and tell me the hard truth delivered with the stings of objectivity

You never wanted me
You never desired me
The depths of my mind were never a place you were excited to explore
Never wanted the gifts I would have gladly shared with you
In the kindest way possible every action rejected everything about me with a clear loud – NO

Be harsh with me and tell me coldly that you preferred someone else over me. Someone else that clearly made your smile bright and your heart feel big


Be a sadist to my masochist let my heart know what it is
instead of what could be

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