Part of my final poetry portfolio in the class FA-CW 103.1: Introduction to Poetry Writing I want her. I want her by my side all times, to have my skin touch hers in every possible way. I want to love her and cherish her and keep her away from harm. I want to show her my love. I want to devour her through fervent kisses and leave her body aching after a night with me. I want my bites to leave imprints on her body. I want to mark her as mine. I want to be able to silence her with a kiss from my fist as much as one from my lips. I want to be able to leave blacks, purples, and blues on her snow white skin like an artist could on a blank canvas. I want to monopolize her. I want to be able to control who she talks to, who she interacts with. Only me, only me. I want to keep her locked up so that no one could defile her beauty. Only I can, only I will. I want to break her. I want to break down her resolve so that she knows that her place is with me. I want to be able to push her down and thoroughly ravish her with no chance of hearing protest. I want to be able to move her any way I want like a puppeteer could a marionette. I don’t want people prying. I don’t want them trying to find out about what we truly have—this bond, this connection that knows no bound. I don’t want them lusting over her beauty that’s only for me. I’d blind them twice over if they so much as dare to dishonor her by raking their eyes over such elegance. I don’t want to hear her cries. Her beauty won’t be tarnished if I made slight adjustments. I don’t want to hear the lies coming out of her kissable lips. I don’t want to hear her lying about wanting to get away from me. The red that leaked out from parted lips was as good as lipstick goes anyway. I don’t want her to be tempted to leave. She’s still as beautiful as the day I met her. Never mind the bleeding stubs where some of her limbs used to be. I don’t want her thinking that it’s a good thing to get away from me. I want her to stay with me. And it seems that she wants the same thing, as she lies pliant in my arms with not a peep escaping her luscious lips, we are in bliss.