You torture me when you sit in that hard chair
Twisting and stroking your hair
I want to be the strand that just sits there
Between your fingers for fun
Want you to feel me throb until we beat as one
We can lose sight of the world’s fast pace
I want you to sit on a bed of soft satin and lace
You torture me when you sit in that hard chair
Stretching your arms and spreading your chest
Arching your back like a male bird in season,
Pretending I’m not the reason you create curves like that
I’d prefer to be the reason you never hold back
In full control, submission, relief or praise
I can make you feel dizzy and dazed
When you fall asleep with one leg bent
I declare, I want to be the reason you put it there
Captured and weakened by your begging eyes
Who sent you to spark my demise?
You torture me
I dream of compromise, or should I say surrender
My mind is a heavy blender and I can end up a smoothie or a shake
Don’t know how much more of this I can take
You torture me when you pull me in with your hand
In my world you are like a fly fish on land, just jump
You have the power to demand any action you choose
Like a crying wolf when you taunt, when you tease you lose
There’s a change in tone
Especially when I know you want to induce my deepest and darkest moan
You’re like a root-bound flower
Catching to the eye, but mentally you’re not full-grown
A wild seed doesn’t wait to be pruned or plucked
My roots are covered with fertile darkness daily new life erupts
My roots are covered in dirt but a sunflower reaches for her cup
I want you to feel free to tumble and roam
True beauty turns scum into suds and foam
That’s why you don’t need the heat from this flame.
You need cold April showers, space, and time
Later if we feel the same
We’ll truly blossom, detangle and unwind
From the knots and norms
Maybe you can even nibble on my neck
Explore my physical form
If you love me
You must stop the torment
Look inside yourself… do pry
If not you are sure to die
having lived a twisted, self-inflicted, root-bound lie.
The only question that haunts the tortured is
“Why?”
