these marks i bear speak volumes. i find myself stroking them during stressful moments, and they bring calm as i am reminded of their source. i smile when i'm caught off-guard by glimpses in the mirror of their red-purple/fading to yellow message on my body.
like a child, i want to show them off. "look what she did!" "look what i felt!" never before have i wished for a bruise to just stay a little longer...hurt just a while more. they're my trophies; my evidence the you were there-- beneath me, burying your teeth into my flesh as i rocked my fist so tenderly in your cunt.
the marks you leave bear witness that the passion i feel with you is real, and the pain is a delicious antidote to the stresses of my day--my own sweet reminder that sometimes i get to be someone else. they say i'm not too old, not just somebody's mother, that i'm capable of being and doing and feeling something so raw and powerful and alive that there are marks left behind.
they whisper of all that lies beneath my flesh, the ecstasy and power that are waiting to be brought forth.
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