Beth Hart ~ Leave The Light On
Cause I wanna love I wanna live
I don’t know much about it I never did
I don’t know what to do
Can the damage be undone
I swore to God I’d never be what I’ve become

A note on tattered paper, an instruction of sorts.
Reflect the image along the y axis,
and in doing so, I turn the page.

Patterns rearranged, elements of a different shade, a photo barely recognisable to the one memory initially presented.

 ~

Time stretches, corrupted perception, and I lie in a shape of my own making, position foetal, curled around my anger and shame. We lie, disconnected, not through His action, but my mental distress, the depth of which I cannot communicate.

I don’t want to go to Him, I don’t want to be seen, disgust at self for looking as I do.
Associated synonyms I thought long buried return to torment, and I’m back there again, the memories stifling, seeking to oppress.

As always, He pulls me back to Him, coaxes me from my morbid asylum, not by force or command, but by softly reminding me of my place at His side.
He may have asked me if I was ok, I may have responded, I truly cannot remember. My mind was elsewhere, turning events over, trying to find an angle on which to pin a vision redrawn in the hope that it wasn’t a deceitful mirage. A veritable cube of Rubik’s based (in)sanity, each twist and turn altering the opposite side.

In that moment, as He stood beside the bed, cock in hand, ready to make a mess of my face, He exerted the right to dominate as afforded Him by my freely given submission.
It’s not always easy, this is life.
It’s raw, it’s not an example of a romantic nirvana written with a cloying fictional bias.

He sought to dominate, not demean, He sought to take ownership of, not degrade and render worthless.

“I am not going to hurt you, but I am going to hurt you” He once said to me.
For this, our relationship, for the structure of our dynamic to work, I have to place my faith in Him that that statement will always hold true.

I