You see 
I am a victim of impulse 
The sound of my own breathing 
Deafens all 
When the beat of my heart 
Hits a rhythm 
Only the other 
Recognizes 
First the senses 
The eyes, the mind, the soul 
For me there is no hope 
My existence has been predetermined 
You do not understand 
I just cannot help myself 
I fall willingly to my position 
Before him

My body never adapted well 
It has always missed the union 
Knowing naturally 
It was only part of a whole 
I am left open 
Wide 
Always wanting, always needing 
Suffering 
At the hand 
Of my own desires 
Begging for the weight of his 
To be applied swiftly 
Or with slow intent 
Understanding that there can be 
No glory 
In lying alone 
When I belong to someone

Explanations fall short 
How does one describe 
A craving 
The watering of the mouth 
It grips at my being 
It is an obsession for his touch 
To be impaled 
Is a prized pain 
I offer me 
As sacrifice 
To have this body used 
Completely 
To be filled 
Marked 
Each bruise equally matched 
By some part of him 
I am his gift 
I am made to be taken 
Defiled 
With the grace of his execution 
For this I was created

It is written: 
  To the woman 
  Your craving shall be for the man 
  And he will dominate you 
For the right man 
I am prophecy 
There is no curse in this blessing.