Muse

He is the fire that burns me, the pain and pleasure that consumes me. He is the control that I crave yet will never attain. He is the center of my tortured dreams, and the creator of my passion. He stands taller than I can see and His mastery fills the void within. His eyes intent and His hands like iron, He owns me and marks my very soul with His touch. He bends me at will, I submit without question. He is the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins, He fills me both savagely and effortlessly. He is the puppeteer and I am His to manipulate. He commands me dance to the beat of His heart, and not my own. He is the desire that fuels me and the source of my inspiration. He is the the instrument of my undoing and I beg to be undone. He is the dark place that I long to explore, to lose myself in Him.