You caught me like a butterfly between your palms. It’s impossible for me to get out. You caress my wings with kindness but you also take my powder away and I can’t fly anymore. I melt at every drop of powder you take and I hate myself for that. Wings are flapping empty. With every look, you chain me more and make me more scars. You are full with scars but you dress up with different suits, so that nobody can see your black tie. I don’t know if your tie was ever another color then black. I don’t care about your past. I just know it’s hidden out there, full of scars.
This is the first time you ever come without a suit. It is just you and your black tie. Your breath it’s hard. Your eyes are burning me. Don’t cover yourself. I will take my high heels down too. Now you see the real me, although I had the impression that you always have seen the real me even if I had my high heels on.
Don’t grab my hair. Don’t make me bend. I still want to see you. Just the way you are, full of scars. Don’t kiss me to close my eyes. Don’t touch me so that I can’t see you how you put your suit back. You want to master me so that I won’t think I saw too much and maybe so I will have the power to make you, a scar too. Paint me on the walls. Fill the room with my moans, and make me forget that I saw you. You want more…you are arguing with me now… The hours are spread on the carpet, your fingers are tattooed on my skin, and your lips found their home on my neck, but that is not enough for you. You insist in obeying me through passion. All that until I forget the color of my wings. My scars are mirroring into yours, now. We are one for two. Breathe! Don’t get dressed!
You put your suit on. I put my high heels too. I take the memory with your black tie and I leave you, in your argument with yourself…