Feasting on the Bones

He comes to me in the hungry hours, lean and starving, his want sizzling like electricity. It’s snarling and ferocious, a beast he leashes and brings to my feet like a present, like I should coo in reverence at the wildness he’s tamed for me.

It breathes heavy on my neck, the heat making my hair curl lazy fingers towards the sky. It swallows up space in its wake, decimating sense and reason and leaving only itself, wild and heaving and pulsating.

It’s magnificent the way he wants me, dizzying in its intensity.

It feels like the whole universe is coiling itself inside me, sucking him in. Like all I’d need to do to bind him to me forever is to let him devour me whole and call it worship.

I release a constellation of stars from my lips and weave magician’s fingers over his skin, casting spells and leaving petals.

But nothing blooms.

Because this is the sorcery of it all. The darkness is really scorched earth where nothing can live, his desire waves I cannot crest.

The desire is fervent, exquisite suffocation.

But it’s because we’re drowning.

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