She perfect in my design

My knuckles red and her face whitened,

“Smile,” I say,

as I stain her lips in my color.

By her waist I lift her from the ground,

By my hand away the remnants of her fall,

tenderly soothing her bruised knees,

where pain meets the promise of healing.

In the quiet aftermath, shadows dance,

whispers of fear lingering in the air.

But in this moment, we redefine the scars,

finding sanctuary in vulnerability—

a dream come true, but mostly for me.

With each gentle touch, I trace her lines,

the stories etched in skin spoke of my sins.

Bond born in silence,

the secrets we share make a good pairing

like fresh venison to a cherry wine

in my plate, she perfect in my design.