What You Do

What You Do

Your presence is strong.
Your strength is inevitable.
Your sexuality and sensuality emanate from you.
It is only second to your beauty and grace.
It flows across the room like ethereal tendrils of fog,
Enveloping me in a blanket of comfort.
It demands to be noticed like a raccoon is bound
By all things shiny.
I want to posess and hold it in my hands.
Hoping somehow it will rub off on me.
Your intelligence and skill are unsurpassed.
Dare I look in your eyes empathetic?
Dare I accept it? For surely it will hurt.
You astound and confuse me.
I try to reject, yet it only serves to anger me.
You make me work and you pull out my pain.
I resist though I know I shouldn't.
You invoke in me a curiosity that will never be satisfied.
You seem hurt or shocked at the lack of my trust.
But you have all I can give.
You request, encourage, and gently demand.
I can not resist, isn't that enough?
I am lost in you knowing nothing.
Not understanding what it all means.
I accept and try to learn.

I wrote this for my T and gave it to her