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He sticks a hand in your chest deep
like he’s searching for more than just
answers. Calls it love. You are no
stranger to hunger. You know how to
starve, how to feed. You offer your
body up to him like sacrifice for all of
your sins. His prayer for you gets lost
between fork and flesh. You turn to
clay in his hands. And you are a
thoughtful lover: as he digs in, you
reach to wipe the blood off of his lip.
He does not wash his hands after he
is done. Thunder in you, suddenly.
You are all heat and light, all want and
thrill and yes. The smell of burning as
you stroke his cheek because you are
always setting fire to each other.