Being His

He says the words, those I have longed to hear. His soft breath and whispers fall upon my ear. Slowly and sensually he removes the layers of my being. Pushing further into me with each heart beat. He fans the burning embers of my soul, controlling my passionate blaze. I am his; his princess, his sweet baby, his lover, his girl. He is my knight, my hero, my world. Vowing my purity to his touch alone...

A starving soul, famished and defeated

Deep wounds still bled

Cowering in my heart's crypt

An impenetrable fortress built as a memorial to my once vulnerable self

As the mortar falls, light seeps in every space possible

Emotions swell as the warmth invades this dark, cold place

Called out of hiding, stepping over the broken shell to this confine to myself

Freedom awaits in his embrace

Like a fairytale princess, I have been awoken by his lips

Once imprisoned in cold, dark nights

My passionate blaze is now my eternal light

He pries into my inner sanctum, my core. Bearing himself and pulling me out, one naked fiber at a time, weaving me back together as a new, erotically charged siren of desire. He pulled the last flickering ember of my soul from a wasteland of ash and destruction. He held me in his hands and breathed life back into me. He makes me glow and continuously and diligently adds fuel to our fire each day. I want to be owned and cherished by him, giving him all of me and saving myself for him alone.

Precious