I Am
CAUTION - PLEASE READ
This poem contains spoilers for the story Playing Goddard, please follow the link lower in the description if you want to read it first.
A gift for mercrantos
Created on something of a whim, as these things usually are.
A poem about Playing Goddard, which I can't recommend enough, and you can read that here - https://www.sofurry.com/browse/folder/stories?by=357464&folder=76327
I Am
Cold.
Surgical steel, lights burning bright,
even before I can know how to feel fright.
Held, not gently,
gripped, intently,
dismissed, rejected, I'm too confused to cry.
I am...
What?
Just what am I?
Caged.
Crippled, a thing to be discarded,
numbers on a clip-board is how I'm regarded.
Restrained, taken,
and then I'm foresaken,
I see a face before I fade, looking torn,
I am...
Awake?
In his arms, and anew, reborn.
Stolen.
Spirited away, clutched, concealed and stowed,
somewhere dark, cramped, sealed, on the road.
Soon, a home,
a place to roam,
I'm his dragon; a pet, a friend, alive,
I am...
Saved.
Given chances to live and thrive.
Calling.
Making sounds and some base imitation,
he's pleased by my whines and chirps as confirmation,
I'm in his care,
and I watch and stare,
he's my all as I flourish, my heart aflame,
I am...
Naomi.
That's me, that's my name.
Growing.
Moulted, bereft of feathers, then held,
wrapped, warm, he soon gives in to arousal, compelled.
A simple kiss,
and utmost bliss,
as we're pressed together, soul soaring,
I am...
Overjoyed.
Locked in staring and just adoring.
Entranced.
Lights dim, together, everything's just right,
I'm winged, but flawed, yet my heart's in free flight,
held, now so gentle,
his touch experimental,
caressed, accepted, I loose a moan.
I am...
Loved.
And will never be alone.
Partners.
Perhaps rivals, as he brings another,
in our trist, now shared, and a third lover.
Lust, devotion,
hot, raw emotion,
a tantric twist; hands, tails, legs and wings,
I am...
Satisfied.
As three, we indulge in the joy it brings.
Who?
A winged challenger, reflecting to oppose,
and I just wonder, looking nose to nose;
bright eyes, black fringe,
white scales, same tinge,
no imposter at all, I know her... no, me.
I am...
Her.
His lover, his life, his Naomi.
Time.
Still learning, loving, enjoying affection,
and he dotes after me, despite my imperfection,
he'll leave, but return,
I understand, yet yearn,
to be by him each time, although sometimes pained,
I am...
Afraid.
He returns, muted, blank, but hands are bloodstained.
Worried.
Our lives near to shattering, I'll be taken away,
he'll "think of something", he goes on to say.
He drinks, like on TV,
not rum, so with glee,
I remember, "dead man's chest", the show with ships!
He is...
Inspired.
Saying something about emails, switches or scripts.
Again.
Surgical steel once more, but I'm assured,
that my imperfect wing will actually be cured.
He's hopeful, and smiles,
we're past our trials,
When I come to once more, I'm astounded,
I am...
Complete.
With nothing but love keeping me grounded.
Freedom.
Aloft on wing, miles of sky, options infinite,
I remain, though, for him, for love and all things intimate,
All of us together,
as we should, forever,
I return to ask that which instils dread wantonly.
Am I...
Everything?
As we dance, so close, he says he would wed me.
Freedom...
Thrown skyward, miles of sky, yet I am broken,
I leave with words that now can't be spoken.
A crash, and he is gone, his soul, departed.
As am I, cast into the sky, shattered hearted.