Fire Walk With Me

[Pu****]

I am called cruel
because I hold the whip,
because I know the language
of sharp things,
the sting of leather,
the trembling edge of surrender.

But what they do not see
is how carefully I listen.

I hear the quiet between your breaths,
the question in the way your shoulders rise,
the courage hidden in the word "yes"
when it is spoken
with full understanding.

To be a sadist
is not to be numb.

It is to feel too much,
to notice every shiver
as if it were a secret
placed gently into my hands.

Power asks something of me.
It asks honesty.
It asks that I admit
how your trust
frightens me sometimes
with its weight.

Because when you kneel,
you place your fragile things
into my keeping,
your limits,
your ***,
your beautiful, dangerous trust.

And I must hold them
like glass.

Yes, I am the one
who draws the red lines on skin,
who writes intensity
in the language of ache.

But I am also the one
who watches your eyes,
who counts your breaths,
who stops
before the darkness stops being play.

Sometimes I whisper softly,
not as a command
but as an invitation

"Fire walk with me."

After the storm
I gather you close,
not as conqueror,
but as keeper of the quiet
that follows thunder.

Because cruelty without care
is only ***.

But cruelty held in love,
in consent,
in trembling understanding,

becomes something else entirely.

It becomes
two souls
walking the edge of fire
together. 🔥

[Va****]

So well written. Thank you. ❤️

[my****]

Love this

[Be****]

So incredibly beautiful!