Forty four weeks
of being taken seriously
of being claimed
without spectacle

She is his
fully
willingly
consumed in the ways that matter

His lil slut
not as a role
but as a truth she lives inside

These weeks have been good
steady
rich with meaning
the kind of connection that does not need
constant proof

And still
sometimes
there is a small quiet place in her
that wonders

Not because she doubts what they are
but because wanting does not erase
the need to matter

Not asking for promises
not pulling at the shape of them
not trying to make it heavier
or louder
or more

Just the simple human ache
of wanting to know
that she is held in more than use

That she is cared about
even when she is silent
even when she is good
even when she asks for nothing

Forty four weeks
of being owned
and choosing it again

And learning that devotion
can coexist
with the soft question
that never demands an answer

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