Consumed.

My consumptuouse mistress.
Fingering chords that give like viens and push like hope.  That saturate my marrow with her.  Consumed by this, by her. By needing her vicious bite like sunrise.  By dressing her willowy shoulders in stone, and kissing her rib cage that holds the remedy.  Gripping her fingers like the walls in a hurricane, screaming and begging for more and never uncle. Never give, never surrender. To only swim till you gasp your last and fall through miles of melting silk, miles of sunlight into her knowing arms. Broken, given like a slave to her, to love her and to be hers.  Consumed and being consumed. Like bones in fire, like lovers in sunlight, like slaughter in coffins that give us, give us her and take from us, her.   

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3 thoughts on “Consumed.

  1. Specific flavor of something to think about but never really know because that kind of information just doesn’t translate well to conventional dialogue. I’m interested in reading more of your work and seeing more of your photography.

    Liked by 1 person

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