date a ghost, maybe an angel- something tall and a twisted sort of holy, made entirely of acid thoughts and contained pressure. you’ve felt it before. it’s felt you before.
let it know that you are small and mortal and volatile, and with that information, tame it. its sharp and shining teeth will bare for you and each of its eyes will close and it will speak to you, and it will tell you it loves you, and it will call you its home.
do not be alarmed when it spits up teeth and thick black liquid- do not be alarmed when the line across its throat opens and bares fangs in a twisting sob. pull up its hair and smudge away the mess from its mouths. let it crumple into you.
its eyes crinkle when it laughs that long, warbling note, all three growing thin and sparkling. it begins to look inviting after a while, and you will speak to it, and you will tell it you love it, and you will call it your home.