Pain

Tell me…

Is there anything more pleasurable than pain..?

Why is it that you…

…bend me
break me
hurt me
torment me.

As if your happiness depended on nothing but seeing me…

…crying
shattering
bleeding
writhing…

until my world is painted in bloodied red on blackest black.

And everything is pain…

flowers
sunshine
and the rain…

everything is pain…

Your words are like unsheathed daggers…

pricking me
cutting me
wounding me

…in so many ways.

Such that a fresh laceration opens before a scar even starts to form.

Wound on wound.
Blood on blood.

It’s a wonder why I still bleed.  I would’ve thought all my blood has run dry…

…as have my tears.

But that would displease you.

And so I…

bleed for you
ache for you
die for you…

all because… I love you…

So tell me now…

Is there anything more pleasurable than pain..?