fatima aamer bilal, except from all hunger is, is love.
[text id: it was inevitable. // you could have marched towards me, parading your teeth like hands, tearing all the meaningless flesh apart, turning my ribs inside, and taking a bite out of my heart—// and i would have done nothing, not when i couldn’t look past your eyes. // so warm. even the sun yearns to bask in them. // sick. sick. sick. how i would have waited for you to take another bite. then another. another. devour me whole. all hunger is, is love.]



















