Bite me.

Bite me.

No, really. Bite me. Make it hurt.
(It doesn’t really hurt.)
Okay, it hurts – but it doesn’t.
it feels good.
Not when you’re biting.
When you let go.
That’s when I let go.

When I imagine,
I look at you
right at you
Daring you
and bending you to my will
(because it’s my mind and it’s all my will)

When it’s real
nothing of the sort.
Unpredictable you
I control nothing
That’s the way I like it.

So when this starts
It’s all “Bite me.”
But in reality,
I always ask….
please?

I will not break

Nobody is going to “break” me.
Not in either sense of the word.

I’m not a “wild and untamed” thing that needs to be brought to her knees and controlled despite her instinct to thrash and claw her way out of anybody’s grasp.

I’m not a porcelain statue with a crack on the side,
decreasing my value to anybody but the one who put it there.

No. I’m not broken, and I won’t be.

Life tried to break me and I got stronger.

And now, I’m here. I know who I am. I know what I am.
Even more: I know I’m capable of change.

Is that why they get scared?

Because I’ve got my shit together?
Because I don’t actually need anybody?
Because I can take care of myself?

Well, they’re silly.

Because when I submit, it’s not from need, or fear, or defeat.
It’s from desire. It’s from want. It’s from choice.

My choice.

And I’m good at it.

Because I can share that strength.
And, I can share that desire.

I can give him that power he craves
as long as he understands

It’s mine to give.
Not his to take.

I will not break.