There is a fire burning in your veins
and scorching my hands.
I know I put it there, but I cannot
bring myself to be sorry.

The inside of your mouth is raw
and bleeding and crowded.
A thousand stars are dying there,
broken and crumbling.

Sometimes I want to you to devour me
as you did to them.
I want to crawl inside you,
but I do not want to feel your teeth in my skin.
—  Madeleine C, to be haunted by the sun