The salesgirl smiles, rings the discount through. He'll tie it round my wrists — and think he chose that too. He wears his control like a suit made of steel, smooth through every room, every hall, every deal. Boardroom or bedroom — no pause and no sweat, he knows where you're weak before you've noticed it yet. But I know the spot that his own eyes can't see: low at his hips, a quake before he pulls free — half a second, no more, till he's back in command: his only leak — the one flaw in the plan. Hermès, navy blue — I chose it on sight, thirty hung on the rack, only one was right. The salesgirl sees me smile, she thinks it’s the price — what she’ll never decode is the design, the device. You’ll wrap it round my wrists, feel like head of the clan — baby, this was always part of my plan. You give me the pain, you take what you’re owed — you think you possess it — I’m the one who bestowed. I give you the yes, you respect the no — this works ‘cause we both mean it — that’s why it can flow. You see what you want to see — I know what you need. You lay your hand on the switch — I’m the current you feed on. Architecture — I’m the one who built it all Architecture — out of every scream, every call Architecture — everyone thinks the plan is yours Architecture — but you walk my corridors Architecture — I’m guiding the hand Architecture — I set where walls stand Architecture — you don’t kick in the doors Architecture — and that’s why I’m yours You gag me — I take your tie between my teeth. You strike with precision, count each tear underneath. I let you conduct — but the beat’s mine, in fact. I watch for my flinching, you watch over the pact — the one with yourself, renewed, set in motion: when you let go, your steel melts — duty turns devotion. Devotion to the image that you yourself designed — Mr. Control — never derailed, never once behind. Except with me — then you laugh, quiet and small: the one thing you can’t control — your tiny fall. I’m the only one this happens before, the only one your steel surrenders for. You think you take when you give — I know you retreat. What we’re building here is more than concrete. You swing the leather — I sculpt the sound. You hold the rhythm — I lay the song down. You see what you want to see — I know what you need. You lay your hand on the switch — I’m the current you feed on. Architecture — I’m the one who built it all Architecture — out of every scream, every call Architecture — everyone thinks the plan is yours Architecture — but you walk my corridors Architecture — I’m guiding the hand Architecture — I set where walls stand Architecture — you don’t kick in the doors Architecture — and that’s why I’m yours You come almost silent, no triumph, no cry. What opens inside you frees us both — you and I. You press your lips into my hair, hold me tight — words are rare. Anything left to say is smaller than what was there- Right there — your thumb retraces every track, reads my skin like an almanac. No one’s leading. The stakes are gone. Right there — is where I belong. What starts in here won’t stay within — I’ll wear it in daylight, lifted chin. Here’s where I practice the fall — what I learn inside, I’ll take past every wall. Architecture — I’m the one who built it all Architecture — out of every scream, every call Architecture — everyone thinks the plan is yours Architecture — but you walk my corridors Architecture — I’m guiding the hand Architecture — I set where walls stand Architecture — you don’t kick in the doors Architecture — and that’s why I’m yours The salesgirl smiles. She thinks: just a tie. I think: architecture — we’re building a palace, him and I. The stage is yours to own, but I direct alone. What looks like your power is mine — just more refined.
