Her beauty is not out for display, she exists and permeates behind sewn woven petals.
Creatures like us only exist to create. To birth beauty from sex and art. I have no other purpose here, I awake with a sense of gaping emptiness at how still my world has become. But to prefer it to the chaos?
For a storm to endure, always needs the chaos.
Hold me, as you do, but all I feel is flesh and pulse. Like a killer, I want to breathe it into me until the heart flat lines. Years of therapy, and He could not cure the animal in me.
So sweet surrender, remain tight, tight, tight
in your perfect pink bud.
Do not bloom, do not release the scent of ecstasy here. Purgatory awaits those that share, the agony of suspension resides there.
The truth is, you have forsaken me. All the while I had been sleeping in your temple believing you making love to me. When really your demons came feeding. Ripping open flesh, and in rapture, I allowed it. With my head thrown back, I enjoyed it.
Yet when the night turns to day, these shadows vanish to reveal what was at play. Instead of divinity, I hunger relentlessly, caged and possessed. What have you done to me? An instrument of expression, you have designed me only for this. My entire life has been protected from shadow, only you've borne me to draw it out from experience, so that if for a moment, I am left without it... I feel the vacancy of despair... in knowing, that I have never known love, only possession. Obsession.