Passion is not gentle.
It devours.
It makes you kneel,
makes you forget your name,
makes you crave the fire that burns you alive.
It is the hunger that owns you,
the madness beneath the skin,
the worship that feels like sin.
You don’t touch it
it takes you.
It tears you open,
and you beg for more,
because without it,
you are nothing but hollow.














