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‘your love is a tyrant,’ she told me.
‘it is a cruel master that beats me with tender
lashes; it brands me with a passion that I can
only regard as fire, because I burn for you. it
binds me in sterling, unflawed chains, & it makes
a prisoner of my heart.’
she tempts me with her naked need; she is a feast
of raw flesh, & I am the unleashed Hound of Hell. I
bite, I claw her hedonistic temple with the fierce
integrity of a wild wolf, & she echoes my intensity.
our destination is obvious: it is a place you cannot
get to without dying – & we do. we pass through the
veil of oblivion. we endure moments of terrible &
magnificent delirium. the word that describes it is
feeble; it is exquisitely the greatest gift that we have
stolen from the gods.
and slowly, slowly we descend. we fall euphoric to the
steppes of the living, & we are so much more than alive.
in her embrace, I am sheltered. I am cloaked in the
serenity of a valley of emerald green…
…the green of her eyes.