It terrifies me.

That I want, need him.

And it terrifies me that want and need is so perverted now with fear and panic, the ugly specter of my own mortality. That this act, once such a performance of joy and completeness, has been cracked and the fissures filled with crimson, blood and hatred.

Once I trembled blissfully in surrender, but now dread the ceding of control.

Then skin trembles against mine, his heart stutters, his breath stills as he touches me, and I know it terrifies him, too.   

And he yields his strength to me.

We begin to heal.