Pilot light lit, in my fits
of rage and jealousy;
because you
wouldn’t cling, to me.

In my dreams,
I am a shark
without a food source.

Hungry, naked, fierce and feral.

And I want your flesh.
I want to rend and tear
the clothing from your skin.

To breathe you
in.

To taste the hallmark taste
you’ve left me wanting
again
and
again.

But I won’t replace
sin with sin.

I’d rather echo volumes
of emptiness and pain,
than touch you,
wound you,
and hurt you.

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