The Shave

take my hand I'll lead you
before the mirror wide and clear
run your hand along me
feel my whiskers scrape you rough

run the water hot to the touch
through the steam survey your task
ease yourself upon the ledge
your stance wide and steady, wanting

place the lather where directed
to soften the coming assault upon my skin
take the blade I hand you
drag it downward as the pretense fades away

your trusted motion observed in reversed reflection
I study the concentration in your eyes
as you work your living canvas
face to face our breathing interchanged

aching all the while knowing your fate
should a missed stroke invoke a twitch
you weaken with every measure
of your upward-downward swipe

slowly you draw closer sucking me in
losing all the while the focus of the moment
legs becoming unattached in mind and effort
to hold you up no more

your steam obscured intentions
obvious only to me as i watch your slow demise
bringing you softly to your knees
to the place where you were going before you even started