Lost

I wont be gentle

He said

But his rough was sweet 

Slow pain

Covering her, pinning her down 

In an embrace that arched her back

Cupped her chin

And slid deep into a dark everlasting

Past her flinch and her scream 

Where every velvet stroke 

Poured molten 

In her soul, 

And transformed sex into 

Therapy 

Full of dark epiphanies 

And filthy growled affirmations in her ear.

(There is an image for this, in fact this is the last verse in a series of 3 images and three poems  but I can't share the images so here's just the best of the three...)