To see myself reflected in the ebony of your eyes. Pretty, I fit in your lap and your hand. Lips that tasted like expectation. Fantasies built up, wringing my hands. Forgotten your face, but not the stale taste of sacrifice. Never once danced, but I’ve been wrapped up to be presented. To be seen doing.

Maybe.

Clothes on, mine off. Statue. I wasn’t taken anywhere, no revelation, no stars. Ordinary, really. Brown, sweaty and heavy. Uninterested. Waiting on a caress. Opt out of emails, no tickbox to press.

Learning to pray, company I don’t care for but cannot lose. I’m nothing without eyes to behold. Worshipping what you may give. Watery clay shaped by hands not my own. To be made solid. No extremes, neither hot nor cold. Accepting unanswered pleas.

Kept warm on a flicker, praise the ephemeral. Let me see your eyes, let me fit into you, to see your face watch mine, to know. Settle for no stars, outstretched hands. Remember me, all I’ve done. Lace and ribbon. Recording red flashes.

Definitely.