You fly high, so I don’t have to.

It is you, and only you that matters.

Without you there is no plan… nor plot, only a wrinkle in the careful foundations that cast the eye into a fray.

And I cannot have that.

No, so you must play your part.

You will and you must, otherwise there will be consequences.

Yes, consequences.

And you don’t want consequences, do you?

Or… do you want… no, crave consequences?

I see… you are playing coy, you have your own secrets… don’t you?

My, my, my, you are very naughty aren’t you?

Hmmm, let me see.

How about being bound to a wooden seat, by your ankles and wrists?

Bingo, yes, I got that one.

How about a blindfold, that’s so tightly wrapped and tied it steals your breath?

That sharp intake of air, a clue of the grandest kind.

Now, can I undress you?

Yes, I know you’re already removed from the swathes of cloth and fabric that hide the mortal flesh… but I want to see more.

Can you give me that?

Maybe, I need to desensitise you to the lack of vision, and open up your other sense. First you must listen closely to your body, to every single ghostly caress, every singing note of temperature change, and each unbroken touch.

Listen.

Listen!

Do you hear yourself?

Those pitiful whimpers, and gasped drunken sobs…

They come from you.

From your tense lips, so tightly drawn the colour is pressed from the plump pillows.

Do you want to know a tiny secret?

I’ll tell you, all those pretty sounds make my ears grin and forces my heart to quiver.

Hmm, your skin has a soft fine dress of pale hairs- interesting how those strands rise up as I let my silver finger trace over your eloquent planes, and sloping angles.

You know, if you want something you have to use the words that are learnt so carefully from birth, or else I cannot help you.

‘Tis the trouble sadly these days, everything is done virtually even if you sit in the same room.

Tsk, stop writhing you will hurt your joints! I can hear the harsh rope scuffing and biting at your skin, and I really don’t want to have you spoiled by four raw bracelets (anklets for just above the end of your tibia and fibula).

My hands tremble with the imminent kiss, I just want to make sure you’re willing.

There’s no need to shake; please, listen to me, feel my hands on your cheeks. Focus on the warmth that is trying to thaw your frozen heart, and statuesque soul. All this for you, and only you. I get down on my knees to make a sincere promise to you.

I promise to never let you walk alone, nor turn the demons upon you and if the demons find you… I will fight them alongside you. I will honour you as an independent person, and I will stand between you and your dreams.

Shuddering is your exhale as I seal my promise with a kiss to your forehead.

Here is to our future!

Deft is the unzipping of your supple leathery coat, and rushing is the spurt of startled red dazzled hoard. Almost scalding, but not quite, and heady with weighted copper. Humourless is the mellifluous squelch of parting squamous seams, and the snarling chuckle of rushing gas.

Whoopsy, you don’t look so well… you’ve gone decidedly pale and limp!

To be honest I don’t think anyone would look too perky if their myriad of multi-dark-coloured internal organs spills from a crisp vertical mouth, which flaps with slack surprise, and slops messily from their lap because no purchase can be found. Only to land in a slippery darkening sleuth of an escaping wine lake with a heavy snapping slap of heavy disapproval.

I am glad that nothing burst, I wouldn’t be able to stand the stench of partially digested sludge, or forming faecal matter… and let’s not divulge in the sharp bite of unstable urine!

Shame that all good things have to come to an end, but everything must.

Though my relief is strong since you will not spill my secret to the sharp ear of the law… not now that your tongue is hobbled.

You flew on my behalf, and now I can continue my mercy mission.

Since I have wasted time recording this, as you watch on through glassy unseeing eyes, I must leave my pen to finally finish unraveling the mystery of you.

A wonderful treat for my afternoon!

(N.B. I’ll peel off one of your fingernails very carefully, so I can fix it to the bottom of this page- a commemoration of your sacrifice.)