she moans

Rough hands, strong fingers—a man to mold and shape her. Ocean eyes that shine right through. A sweet one, a predator—she knows he’ll devour her whole. “I can be whatever you want me to be,” she says. She will let him create her, fill her up, make her whole. She imagines his body in her mind, now touches herself. She moans. She lets go of her old self; she lives for this, breathes for this. She doesn’t even remember her real name.