The Bear

I used to love the way blood tasted in my mouth.
The feel of a bruise on my cheek.
My face pulsing with its own heart beat.
Purple welts on my arms and ribs.

You catered to my masochistic desires.
The bear inside of me.

Held me down underneath you
and grabbed my hair.
Bit me and drew blood
while I back handed you across the face
urging you on.

These days the bear is quiet.