my devotion will sit at your altar for days,
hands folded, voice frayed,
doing nothing but singing your praises,
because this devotion is the closest
i will ever come to being holy.
it doesn’t know the diffrence
between a kiss and a bite mark.
both are offerings, and i accept them gladly.
my devotion forgets that teeth leave bruises,
and kisses leave ghosts of color
on the collarbone of memory.
it cannot tell the hearth's gentle fire
from the inferno that burns the house down.
still— it starves Itself to feed the flame,
if only to keep you warm.
if ruin is what you make of me,
i give myself to the smoke—
let the flames swallow me whole,
because my devotion never
between love and suffering.
it only knows now to worship:
to kneel, blistered and breaking
to pray, screaming myself hoarse,
until even the fire forgets your name—
but i do not. I begin again.
just as the flames threaten to consume me,
hands reach in and drag me back from the edge. my hands are still folded,
my cracked lips are still choking out prayers.
the lips i know so well brush my forehead and whisper,
slowly, painfully, i peel them open.
wincing at the blisters on my eyelids.
the hands i prayed for lift my chin,
and in those eyes i see something i cannot match:
something wild, something primal—
fierce enough to scold me for letting muself burn.
gentle enough to carry me from the burning building.
"never again," says the voice that sings me to sleep;
it is both a command and a plea.
they cup the rain in their hands and douse me,
cool water hissing across my scorched skin.
the rain drenches the flames clinging to me;
they kiss the ash from my face and hair—
strong hands turing worship into rescue.
and still, as they pull me from ruin,
that gaze does not waver.
i am adored. i am treasured.
a sacred flame that deserves both love and protection.
a burned offening turned back into flesh and bone.
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
izzy806
stormborns
origamiaround
prguitarman
