Gaiyaa

Morocco; the bride's feet should not touch the ground on her wedding day; her fingers too are bound by a skein of wool to keep them inactive.

*

you don’t want attention. you want devotion.

you want the feral kind of love— the kind that burns holes in silence, aches loud in reverence, yearns heavy in absence. the kind where they see you once and they’re ruined forever.

you want the kind of person who fights themselves for wanting you but still gives in the moment your eyes meet. somebody who sees you not just as cute, but sacred. somebody who shakes under the mere weight of your existence.

and no you’re not asking for a god— you’re just asking for someone who worships the way you do. so don’t you dare settle for something less when your love is biblical. don’t you dare water down your divinity to be drinkable to someone who’s just thirsty.