Let Me Be Small

A poem the paradoxical healing effects of power play

Photo by Jay S Laffat (With permission from the artist)

Some days living feels far scarier than dying
Those days I bravely smile all though I feel like crying
And I will stand up though I want to fall apart
Those days a vacuum has absolved my beating heart

You ask me, are you good?
I answer:

Yes
…
I am fine
I’m fine
Fine
Finished
Fucked
Fuck me…please?

On those days I need you to stand tall
Need you to let me be small
To push me up against the wall
Nudge me to my edge and let me fall

Then, catch me just before I hit the floor
Torment me and hear me beg for more
Cradle me and say I am your whore
Tell me I’m a good girl, I implore

Collect my salty tears with your sweet lips
Drops of sweat beneath your fingertips
Trace my spine until you reach my hips
Ravish me, our bodies in eclipse