Sunday, November 12, 2023

Ache

Down to the marrow of her bones, the ache was merciless, the tenderness and the agony, and his mouth, his goddamn mouth begging to steal what panted breath still lay forgotten and buried deep in her lungs. She died over and over, her soul now his, splayed open exquisitely upon his sword, the night alive with her trembling screams. 

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All the grief that swallows us whole is pooling over the edges and bleeding into everything; changing the shape of what it touches.