מי שמביט בי מהחֹר

.He traced silence on my skin

,Each needle was placed with purpose

.a quiet rhythm of control and surrender

,He shaped a circle on my back

.a ritual of trust between pain and calm

,It wasn’t pain for its own sake

.it was a language only we could speak

  I felt the world narrow to the rhythm of my

.breath and his steady hands

,In that moment, my body becam a canvas

.and his care became art

.I felt both fragile and infinite

It wasn’t about the needles, it was about

.being seen, completely, without words


,Thank you

.My master

.My daddy

.Sir

Dom Fenrir