Lady

He calls me Lady…I’m his Lady…I’m his

Which makes a slow smile blossom from the depths of my lips

As I think about how three common words strung together by him

Could make me feel all the more special in ordinary days

Because whether calling to me amidst public eyes or whispering to me in our private bed

I feel the love and lust behind each and every letter

Washing over me like warm bath water

And I truly believe in those moments that I own each of those four letters

That they are all mine

Because he gifted them to me

On that night

As I soaked in his tub

He seated and watching through the steamy candle light

As I said goodbye to the wear of the day

And through a smile I hadn’t seen him ever issue forth

He quietly declared me to be

A Singular Lady

And my laughter rang in the echoing rings from water droplets released by the aged faucet

At the thought that my most vulnerable self

My moon drenched skin marred with scars and pin pricked with ink

Could be so desired

As to be defined

As a Lady

And as I slowly slid beneath the water

Out of view

I whispered through my blushing smile

Lady

Assigning to each letter

An aspect of his honest self

From that singular moment

When I shifted from an everyday girl

To his uncommon Lady

E.A. O'Connell