Would You?

If I leant back in this hard wooden chair,
and willingly placed my wrists on the arms,
and let you cable tie my hands to it’s frame;
would you? Would you follow through?
Would you help me forget?
Would you whisper your apologies in between each
blow, each cut, each laceration of my skin?
Or would you stare at me for the longest time and then
tell me in a child like voice that you can’t?
That you can’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.
Will you at at least kneel beside the throne to which
I am bound and cry with me? Weep with me at the
knowledge that there is no pain that can be killed
with more pain? Only woven scars that tell
strangers the stories that you tried to run from?