Him

He shows up, often.

He knows me, holds me, touches me

But I don’t know him.

I feel special, chosen.

But confused - why did he choose me?

And what do I owe him?

Because that’s the deal.

If he chooses you, you are “it” and

That gets complicated.

Because you are his.

Then you belong to him.

And you can’t leave.

He chose you.

Above all the rest

So you owe him.

And he owns you.

He didn’t pick the thin one or the blond

He picked you.

That’s nice, isn’t it?

To be chosen; to be “his”

That’s nice, isn’t it?

The sex is good.

He wants you to know that he knows

The sex is good.

That’s nice, isn’t?

A dream with good sex.

That’s nice, isn’t it?

I’ve been chosen.

He picks me and the sex is good

And then I’m his.

It’s just a dream.

It’s just a nice dream with good sex.

Please, please wake me.