toy

And in the darkness you found me –
a tossed aside toy, dried tears and spit,
the detritus of childhood smeared upon me.

A ragged thing, bent into a corner –
the attic’s smell, old wood and faded memory,
replacing cologne and the scent of bourbon.

Lifted, turned, held up to dust-filled light –
the dirty window bending beams,
the heat of a forgotten sun upon bent limbs.

You bent, lips brushing my stitched up smile –
a tongue dragging a seam,
a whispered word across my half ripped ear.

“Mine”, you murmured, “my toy, returned” –
and then I knew you, child grown to woman,
your scent familiar, but layered, the perfume of womanhood upon you.

Your fingers then, brushing down my front –
my belly suddenly sensitive, awake,
your toy shivering under your intent.

Sapphire eyes, once glazed and plastic, opening –
dry, dusty lips find wet, your tongue conducting,
a chorus of cries rising in my mind.

“Mine”, you murmur, finger moving past my belt –
my toy, now yours, you fingers deft and exploring,
insistent, grown, and knowing.

“Mine”, you murmur, your mouth a circle –
a wrapping circle, urging life
into a toy now awakened,

Your power, your ownership, now certain –
circled lips now wrapped, urging,
your toy stiffened, awakened.

A dance, between owner and toy –
your circle urging, your toy awakened,
dust motes swirling, you make me yours again.