I wait, and wait, and wait
as if time has decided to punish me
filling me with anticipation.
And it builds inside
first the roots, then the branches,
then the leaves,
this craving
fueled by the unbeknownst to me.
And until the hand hits,
flesh on flesh,
heat on heat,
Domination over submission,
I can’t phantom to understand
the pleasure that pain may bring.