sijjy·:

“I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat.”

“What if I am nothing but a viper who wants to poison everything he touches?”

“& all I could hear was hunger, sainted, / stretched between the shrines of my teeth.”

“he is handsome, her lover — the sort of beauty found in a tempest, his face alight with the rolling of thunder, of lightning toiling in a copper cauldron. these are hands that could kill, she thinks, and his fingers tremble at the dunes of her aorta, almost reverent — these are hands that have tasted blood. he kisses her and there is a war at the back of her closed eyelids — for a moment, they are as one; for a moment, death is under hand, a devout mistress. she wonders; is godhood always a tremor, or is it only when one loves; and oh, why is that love so akin to a sacrificial pyre, to ritual consumption?”