If If i was a decent man and you were a decent lady

I wonder what we would be like, if we were decent people. If you could get aroused by receiving kisses instead of bites, if I could get hard seeing you dressed up instead of tying you down. If you could come undone without tiptoeing around oblivion.

I look at your back and I see a work of art. A painting of scars and bruises that tells our story, but to the naked eye every mark is the same. Every mark is abuse, and are we not abusing each other then, the naked eye says.

If we were decent people you wouldn't crave violence and I wouldn't let you have it. Instead I feed you everyday carefuly crafted pain and harsh words that meet your needs and mine. They say it isn't love, yet it is dedication. There is care in knowing exactly where your limits lie, and yet always being on the lookout for something amiss.

I wonder, were I a decent man, if I would make you look into my eyes and smile, like decent people do. When we are alone I blindfold your eyes to alleviate those concerns from you. I take pride in knowing that my voice, my touch, and the echoes of my body moving across the room are the only thing your mind needs to cling to.

Were you a decent person, would you trust me completely with my hand around your neck, with a blade to your throat, with threats to your life that you know are empty but reduce you to a shivering mess anyway?

You allow me to unleash the chaos whirling inside me, and turn it to fuel for our shared pleasure. You make my body pulse in waves of lust, and as I become your everything I know that your mind awakens to a world of untold euphoria.

In our most intimate moments, would you shake so much, would I moan so loud, would we share that split fraction of time outside of time in a blissful ecstasy, if we were decent people? i was a decent man and you were a decent lady, I wonder what we would be like, if we were decent people. If you could get aroused by receiving kisses instead of bites, if I could get hard seeing you dressed up instead of tying you down. If you could come undone without tiptoeing around oblivion...

I look at your back and I see a work of art. A painting of scars and bruises that tells our story, but to the naked eye every mark is the same. Every mark is abuse, and are we not abusing each other then, the naked eye says.

I wish we were decent people you wouldn't crave violence and I wouldn't let you have it. Instead I feed you everyday carefuly crafted pain and harsh words that meet your needs and mine. They say it isn't love, yet it is dedication. There is care in knowing exactly where your limits lie, and yet always being on the lookout for something amiss.

I wonder, were I a decent man, if I would make you look into my eyes and smile, like decent people do. When we are alone I blindfold your eyes to alleviate those concerns from you. I take pride in knowing that my voice, my touch, and the echoes of my body moving across the room are the only thing your mind needs to cling to.

Were you a decent person, would you trust me completely with my hand around your neck, with a blade to your throat, with threats to your life that you know are empty but reduce you to a shivering mess anyway?

You allow me to unleash the chaos whirling inside me, and turn it to fuel for our shared pleasure. You make my body pulse in waves of lust, and as I become your everything I know that your mind awakens to a world of untold euphoria.

In our most intimate moments, would you shake so much, would I moan so loud, would we share that split fraction of time outside of time in a blissful ecstasy, if we were decent people?