Most of the time his?

No,sometimes his.

Enslaved by a desire he can’t reach

Imprisoned by her fears.

Afraid of letting it all go.

Overwhelmed, he walks through the door,

with preying eyes around the room

and then his eyes find her.

like an unmoveable bed

he falls in like its routine

no explanations, no talk, no life.

sometimes she thinks she forgot how to love

her life stopped each time he walked right in

He is a coward, she thought.

Afraid to accept she has a world behind those sheets.

Helpless to let herself step out.

Can’t even give up herself when she has to

but yes,sometimes his

Most times not. is all it will ever be?

His comfort is in turning tables

just to elevate his ego

and on her knees she bores to command.

She thought?

No, she was convinced she liked it,

decieved she hadn’t lost herself

but all she had left was her emptiness,

maybe she had forgoten to live without him,

yet she was only his for a while

an option never a choice

with a stranger she thought she knew.

Many times she felt soft

like butter under the sun,

she let herself melt andflow down the slab like

a yellow rivulet towards him

hoping he would catch every trickle of affection

when he offered his world she embraced it

but she prefered her own

5d2eda5eeb604aefccc0822508fd7799sometimes his and thats all she will ever be.

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