A slow burn,
the way he wants me -
on my knees, on my back.
His eyes sharpen when he hears please.
A slow burn,
the measured weight of his words
Tell me how you want this.
My skin grows hot when I hear mine.
I only exist in this space
between his desire and his restraint.
I am coveted,
And I am bound.
Half close eyes, watching the darkness,
a faint lighter click.
I feel heat,
And I am ignited.
I imagine the ember of his cigarette
He draws in the smoke.
I am the cherry,
And I am burned.