my devotee, i caress,
with gentle prowess, as their veins run with blood,
and i feel it beneath my fingertips.
a limitation, an insult, to my inner being.
i take their chin, and lift it up,
running fingers through hair, nails breaking skin
and feel the truth, in their worship.
their mind lost, but not their heart,
my acolyte, gazes up at me, smile soft and honest,
framed by these fingers i am supposed to call mine,
once awkward and useless.
until she came and found me, and suddenly,
every ***** became vital,
every heartbeat a relief,
every touch was a delicacy,
and every word a belief
to her. my heart beats and beats and beats,
endlessly enduring, so i think of her,
whose very presence has started to consume my thoughts.
a place that used to be mine only, and yet.
im willing to share, if it means i too,
can one day show her the truth in my divinity.
basically word ***** but i think its kind of cool!!