This Little Masochist

This winter I scrapped
my skin with your hands,
let your tongue bruise
thighs instead of my fists.

Not all masochists use
razor blades or the tips
of safety pins to draw
endorphins to surface.

I used your flesh
to cut my skin and feel the
visceral sensation of pain
as opposed to a water
drenched heart.

The only person
intended to feel pain
was myself.

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