He is Master
The knife.
I revel in it. The gentle touch of it against my skin as He teases me, the more intense scratchings as He prepares to draw blood. The metal, cold at first, heats to the presence of my body, and I miss its chill. Then it bites and the warm red fluid spreads out from its sting. It bathes me in its essence, and I am cleansed. He brings His lips to the source, tasting me, drinking the sticky sweet liquid, so much darker, so much thicker than His usual preference. He moves His face closer to mine and I can see the single drop of myself falling from the corner of His lips. His smile shows that I have pleased Him, His eyes speak that I am His as He takes all of me into Himself.

Tell Me You Love Me
I lap it up
my sweet ambrosia
divine wine
holy water
my drug of choice.
I crave it
more than air
more than food
or shelter.
Pour it over me
let me taste it
drink it
drown in it
bathe in its substance.
Let its form wash over me
seeking out even the most hidden of crevices
and filling them to full
to bursting.
Once more and I'll explode
Again.