coming back full circle to each other for all these years, he feels like the idol to some naturally occurring ritual - and i’m his high priestess who anoints him in oils and blesses him with flower petal kisses.
and he leaves feeling like a God - and he acts as arrogant and proud as a God. he stomps loudly against the ground - cracking the crust of the Earth - faulting the land. he laugh’s a cold and bitter laugh - freezing the crop and making babies cry. drunken and lusted, he sleeps in the bed of the whore’s and gambles with the drooling dogs who line up at the bars of Babylon.
as the city is set to flame once again, he walks himself back to me, burnt - his tower all crumbled - exhausted of all purpose in his Holy dispose.
and i wrap him up and i coo in his ear. i hold his face like a mother to a child. and his burns heal as my hands graze upon them. and i run my fingers through his hair and rid him of his tangles. and i allow his tears as water to my cloth as i wash his face of dirt and soot. and he kisses me and he loves me but he never says a word.
one day his tower crumbled and he never walked himself back to me.
he never walks again.
