My Writings

Feast come famine

Artwork: Antonia Avramova

No one ever loved like I do. And no one ever will. I called you into my life in a time when my heartstrings were stretched way too thin, and a black worm ate my eye from within, clouding my vision. I did not see your coming then.

I called, and indeed you answered. Time bent to heed your gentle steps, and all eyes were simultaneously mesmerized and petrified by your presence – they could not stand the beauty of your face, and they looked away. The Love of the Magnificent flows through you. You are a host of His Promise. You are a carrier of His Mercy. You are the Grace that I had lost, drowned in a world choked by lethargy. I see a strange death, a slow decay behind people’s eyes.

Not in yours. You are life untamed. You are feast come famine. You are an opiate. You are the sun to me. You ride with me into a bloodless battle with myself. You have foreseen its outcome. You have seen me drink from that blessed spring before I had even caught your scent. You are a fountain of youth. You give strength to my words. I let them flow through me and into the world.

They carry the banner of my wanting for you.

When they see the face of the messenger, like I did, they will not even need to break the seal.

The meaning will be self-evident.

Like your beauty.

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