Pounce

Playful is dangerous
without consequences
Consent looms over us
Words can be spoken
play is enough of a invitation
To say

You make me want to crowd you
Push you up against the wall
Pin your wrist against your struggles
Taste your mouth in fierce possession
Take all that your playfulness promises
Burn us both with passion

Which you said you don’t want
Yet you play and play
I am not made of stone
Eventually, something will give

Note: I’ll say something, be blunt.  Consent is far too important to me.  But she pushes and pushes.  I can’t tell if she wants me to use force or if she is waiting to say “aha!  Gotcha! You’re just like the rest.  It’s tiring and it hurts. 

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