#its the sadist in me

Warning Signs

There are warning signs. Blinking lights slipping past your vision, hovering at the edges like the stars on the back of your eyelids. That look in your eyes when I’m going a little too far. The threat of the point of no return, the way it looms on the horizon. You know. I know. I smirk at the perimeter. 

It’s because you get off on fear, you know. Comfortable is the antithesis of that hard knot in your belly, it softens you up, makes you slip away into happy dream land when I want you here in cold stiff reality. I don’t want you to be comfortable. I want tension. I want drama. I want a conflict between the you that wants this, and the you that knew this was always a bad idea.

And I want to see one of those win. I want to see the defeat in your eyes, the acceptance, and the beauty, and then I want to set you down, safe and sound, and watch the relief flood over you like a fugue, some heady miasma that leaves you panting and breathless. I want to smell the catharsis come off you in waves.