My Spirit, My Essence (Vision Three)

Your fingers traced a path along my neck
A caress as chilling as frostbite
This icy touch ignited a fire within me
A paradox of sensation that scorched my very soul

My breath, laboured and desperate, fought against the frigid prison of your grasp
In your cold dismissal's silent night
I fought for breath, for life, for light
I've learned the art of listening
Understanding that each whisper of the wind, each sigh of the earth
Holds a tale waiting to be heard
So, don't paint me in shades, I do not wear
My spirit, my essence, is mine to bear

My spirit, my essence, is mine to bear

Cast adrift, I am a vessel of weariness and wounds
Yet it is your gaze alone I seek amidst the tempest
Eyes weary from the effort of discerning clarity amidst the encroaching shadows that dance around your form

I've learned the art of listening
Understanding that each whisper of the wind, each sigh of the earth
Holds a tale waiting to be heard
So, don't paint me in shades, I do not wear
My spirit, my essence, is mine to bear

In the folly of our interactions
Your words fall softly, a whisper carrying the weight of disdain
A reflection of the weariness and disgust you harbour towards me
Was it love or need, that you demand?

In the embrace that followed
Your body's heave and the burden in your arms spoke volumes
Yet, in that moment of closeness, I remained uncertain

In the closeness shared, a puzzle unsolved
Between joy and need, deeply involved