The Puppeteer

With Self planted firmly on the ground
His gorgeous body speaks a confidence
that needs no words or gestures.

From across the room he enters me
Igniting and Consuming at once
The pulse of my aliveness
And I fear I will die without him.

I am a puppet now,
Too willing to be pulled by the invisible strings
And by the power he wields while sleeping.

Robbed of my groundedness
And penetrated by a force I cannot withstand
I lose myself, my confidence, my power
And fear my pulse is the next to go.