THE DEVOURING
I.Seduction
It begins soft,
like the brush of a candle’s heat against the skin,
a warmth you lean toward,
believing it will guide you out of the dark.
Eyes become altars,
touch becomes scripture,
and you kneel without realizing you have bent.
You call it destiny,
but it is hunger wearing a mask of tenderness.
II. Surrender
You give
your sleep,
your words,
your body bent into shapes you swore you’d never take.
The giving feels holy at first.
Sacrifice is easy when you are drunk on the thought of being chosen.
But holiness stains quickly.
Devotion is not love
it is a knife you press against your own throat,
waiting for their hand to finish what you’ve begun.
III. Destruction
Then comes the erosion.
Not sudden, but steady.
Your laughter becomes brittle,
your reflection foreign.
You think you are holding them close,
but in truth they are inside you,
feeding on marrow,
swallowing the parts of you that once said I.
Chains disguised as arms,
a cage disguised as a kiss.
This is how the heart learns to rot:
slowly, beautifully,
until ruin looks like romance.
IV. Aftermath
When it ends
if it ends
you do not walk away whole.
You walk away haunted.
Ash clings to your tongue whenever you try to say love.
Your chest is a ruin where echoes live,
and every new tenderness feels like a trick.
The dark side of love never departs.
It waits in the corners of memory,
a patient shadow,
reminding you that once,
to be adored
was the same as being devoured.
L
THE DEVOURING I.Seduction It begins soft, like the brush of a candle’s heat…
