edge

it’s almost like a tiny death,

on the very edge of dying,

feeling like my heart stops,

my whole body screams to that moment of ecstasy where the breath is stolen from the lungs, the blood burns and rushes at a million miles an hour making me almost faint,
or die,

the edge, so thin, so sharp, so finely-tuned and barely-balanced,

I’m drawn to it inextricably, undeniably, to that absolute moment of complete arousal, my body is dragged closer and closer, deeper and deeper, prolonging the inevitable, a climax, where the body surrenders to all that’s promised, utterly and willingly, wanting becomes craving becomes hunger that must be fed even through panic it still feeds a longing, yearning, more and more. I let it happen, I fall from grace, every hair on my body stands on end, my limbs taut, stretched to breaking point, muscles and sinews straining and burning, heart pounding to the point of ripping through my breast.

I will beg for it, every and any way I need too, I would let my inhibitions be stripped away, torn from me along with each layer of clothing, watching them discarded, inhaling the scents, I will be prey to its predator and whoever wishes to indulge their desires on me, in me, over me, absolutely. One after another I would let them pull me apart body and soul, open me, explore me, letting them into me, tasting me, the heat that flows from me, from them, between each and every one repeatedly, one after another I would feel them covet me, filling me with their seed, their offerings so insatiably sinful, beyond all redemption for my wanton desire. I would be what they want, what they make me, what I need, what they take, brought to that very edge, pinnacle, tipping point. precipice, falling over it, thorough it, into it, taken beyond it until I’m crashing, screaming, gasping and longing once again for more and then more, untamed and feral, bound and released, bound and released…

it’s almost like a tiny death,

on the very edge of dying,

held.

© 2018 Emmaleela