Chance.
2002-11-16 - 3:01 p.m.

I want you. Perhaps you've tugged on some fine thread of masochism that I never knew existed within my sadist self, because I'm sure that for you I blend into the crowd. I want to know what color your eyes are, what your hair feels like slipping through my fingers, clutched in my fists.

You're an ache in my belly and I've never felt your weight in my arms, been pierced by your stare. I can't predict you and I love that. I want to learn your thoughts and feelings about anything and everything. What do you love? Who and what do you lust for? Is there anything that you're afraid of?

Maybe I'm tired of always being so strong, always knowing the end of the story. Fight me. Break my control, just for a little while. Let me find out what you taste like, test the give of your flesh with my fingers, with my lips and sharp little teeth. I want to see the flickers of feeling in your eyes. I want the chance. I always want what I can't have.

before - after