The pain fades away, only a distant memory of what was, remains,
in its place a dull throb, I need more,
pain is my salvation, without it, I can know no pleasure,
sugar is dust, wine is bittered,
song is deaf to my ears,
the rhythm of my body, fettered.
She is my mistress, fickle, teasing,
so much more she makes me want her,
to reach out, to feel alive with her caress, her sweet caress.
Enliven me to my very marrow, make me feel the essence of your soul,
the reason for this beautiful scar,
aching, yet tremendously fulfilling, that jagged welt.
Dedicated to Mitchelle, my inspiration.