ManicWorld Magazine

I want to leave.
Yet, I stand, trembling in the doorway,
the very thought of leaving a quiet betrayal.

Every fibre in me longs to stay,
to beg him to let me crawl inside his skin,
to merge with him, body and soul,
until we are a single breath, a single heartbeat,
a single, insatiable desire.

I crave him,
need him,
to sate this hunger he’s created in me.

His voice commands my senses,
A symphony of power and tenderness,
soothing my inner fire.

His presence settles the chaos in me,
A steady hand gently cupping the tempest,
Taming the rage,
Guiding it into peaceful submission.

His scent,
unravels me in ways I shall not name.
Each note a caress luring me
into the labyrinth of him.

To taste him is to feast on love –
a ravenous, overwhelming love,
I am eager to surrender to.

And when he touches me,
God, it consumes me.
My body quakes under the weight of it,
and I want to offer him every piece of me.

Not just my flesh,
but the raw, untamed parts of me.
The parts I keep hidden beneath layers of strength,
that tremble when he holds my gaze.

I want him to take me apart,
to see me, truly see me and
reveal the woman beneath the warrior.

He is dangerous.

He is
a force of nature I should fear.

But
I want him more than I fear
how much I want to surrender to him.

At the same time, in my mind,
a storm rages—
Is this submission a weakness?
Am I betraying the strength I fought to forge?

I am a black woman.
Carved from centuries of resilience,
proud and fierce in my independence.
But with him,
I feel the pull of something deeper,
a yearning I cannot name. And I realise
he holds the power to ruin me,

a power resolutely he ignores.

Instead,
he nurtures me.
He guides me with hands both gentle and firm –
patient with my every hesitation,
delicate with my every fracture,
filling me with something I never thought I deserved—
a love that simply adores.

I don’t understand it; how he can be
both ends of the spectrum,
the storm and the calm,
the fire and the ash.

And most days,
it leaves me at the crossroads,
trying to decide what I need more,
his control or his care.

But in my heart,
I know the answer,
even if I cannot say it aloud.

I want them both.
The care that nourishes me, and
the control that completes me.

I should want to leave.

I know I can’t.

I crave him so fiercely.

The love he offers
makes me feel
safe enough to be vulnerable;
safe enough
to give up the weight
of the expectations
that have held me in chains for so long.

In his arms,
I am both free and bound.
I am a woman whose heart and body
are finally allowed to feel,
to love,
and be loved in return.