We had been apart for some time.
	Unsure
	my heart drifted to other areas of the room
	secret compartments calling out to me.
	Anything to avoid the cool smoothness of white skin
	the dark scratches I had placed upon her back and face
	scratches I would place again
	had I enough nerve to clutch my pen.
	Placed on the shelf like a trophy wife
	dragged out for use only when my ego needed stroking
	I would force my tool up and down the length of her form
	until her trim was worn from constant pressure
	and warm from the heat of my fist
	pounding down upon her
	emphasizing each stream of my angry words.
	And yet she would always open to me
	for me
	And I hated her for that
	making apathy seem like love
	warped mirror reflecting power and dominance
	in a submissive's face.