Our Creation

I am a man, therefore I am. My arrival was anticipated, prayed for and wished for. I didn’t disappoint, I came, an August visitor, to complete you, to make you whole. You stared down at me with such love, with so much fullness, your won jewel. You treasured and caressed, don’t think I didn’t feel those touches, that look that you shone upon me like rays. I did. And I continued to feel it till it became a right, my ownership. I could do no wrong.

You knew this; why else will you give, give so completely yourself, your core? It wasn’t love, it was something else—adoration. A worship of a god you made—me. And like a god, I did provide, protect and save you. It was my sweat that chased your hunger. My arms held you, and when you fell, these arms lifted you.

I loved you, but not entirely, not to the core, I was afraid, you’d see, that I was you but in another form. A revelation that would be. So I took you in and fucked you. Or I masturbated with your body. Kept it simple. Like cornrows. You whimpered, moaned, scratched, called me baby, love, honey, daddy, while I grunted to your words. In a bid to prove my, I fucked harder.

If you had looked closely you would have seen that I was frail, but you didn’t, I don’t hold it against you. I lied and hid well. And the Truth is after all, uncomfortable, so I lied.

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