Some nights, I wake up with a snake coiled around my neck.
His grip is smooth. Soft, just like your hands. He is here to kill me; I am
here to get killed. There are no pretensions anymore. Or I’m probably too familiar
with his intentions now. I am suffocated
by the silky coil around my neck. He’s whispering in my ear. Coaxing me to
submit. Your voice is still excited, urgent. I am dying but I am not struggling
to live. When was I alive anyway?
Some nights, I wake up with a huge anaconda wrapped around
my body. Gripping me in. Holding me down. I can’t move but he is moving all
over my body. He caresses my thighs. His sharp teeth between my legs, tearing
me apart, but holding me in my place. Your tongue, working its charm like it
always did. I can sense his pleasure in his movements. I’m controlled but I am not struggling for
freedom. When was I free anyway?
Some nights, I wake up with a black snake around my face. My
body is free, only my senses are not. I can’t see, I can’t hear and I’m not allowed
to speak. I could move, but I have to be dumb. My body isn’t trapped, but I am.
Both your hands holding my face, positioning me still. I am shut up but I am
not struggling to speak. Who listens to me anyway?
Some nights, I am woken up by their hisses. They are all
over my bed. All over me, under me, around me. Each one of them has eyes like
yours. Charming, bright eyes that did me in. I am naked on such nights. Bared
of emotions, of cries. I lay still. I don’t try to disturb them. I let them have
their feast. When did I ever have my body for myself anyway?
Each night you return to me thus, and each night I let you
in. Each night you love me, and I give in. Sometimes, Serpents are not scary.
Adams are.
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