About Claiming

You think I’m patient.
But patience is a leash I wear for you.
Every second I don't take you—
is a second I claim you deeper.

You move like you don’t know
what you’re doing to me.
Or maybe you do—
and that’s your weapon.
Timid in light,
a fucking eclipse in shadow.

I could ruin you sweetly.
One command at a time.
One praise behind the teeth.
One look that tells you: stay still, love—I'm not done yet.

You like danger only if it knows your name.
So, I’ll say it.
Low.
Sharp.
Like the sound of silk tearing in the dark.

Kristina.

Say it back,
while I draw you open like a locked journal
and write myself into the places no one has dared to annotate.
I don’t ask permission.
I create surrender.

And when you try to hide,
I'll find you—
in your thoughts,
your breathing,
your next unfinished sentence.

You can run.
But I’m already there,
watching your pulse respond like it’s mine.