Trigger Warning: Implied abusive relationship, implied coerced sex
Power drums within you, flames raking up your chest and through your nose, but you push back your magic for fear of what you’ll become.
You can hear it calling to you, a whisper like the darkness bides you near.
It is unfortunate that you see the fire within your veins and call it unworthy, as if the flames that burn you from within will sharpen your spine with claws,
and lick your demise from another’s throat. This choice of weight will cost you dearly, and you’ll soon long for your power to return,
but abandonment of your true nature will pay its price.
You’ll find him unruly, unjust, and seek out retribution. You’ll find the words die in your throat, no flame to snuff it out.
He’ll call you cheap, but he’ll want more. Nothing like love will bloom under sheets anymore.
To call upon the flames that drive your skin would be a betrayal, and so you wish instead for his heart.
His snakeskin hands coil your throat, and you feel you could become ashes for him, and still want more.
He hisses a breath, nothing will be left, I have no love for you anymore.
If you want this, he says, the claws you thought were yours bloodying your chest,
give me what I know you have, underneath all of there.
The answers are a thrumming beat in your mind, your lust for sin outweighing your need for revenge.
You take the snake by the hand and let him into your bed, the tails slithering around you in arduous glee.
At his doorstep, you can find simmering coils of bile underneath your fire, a wickedness that
burns you, tastes you. You wonder why you listened at all.
The three words sink through your teeth, beckoning his gaze to see you clearly,
but his final words are a curse that you bear,
knowing his love would have been too much to take.
When the dew drops from his lips like sinking water, you will feel nothing but pain.
You will know the agony of what was once left behind, rotting and left to die.
Everything will come to a close before his crystalline eyes, rooms full of mourning that once held you
like the night, burdening you with this neighboring grief, and locking you to withstand
the cold air that blows you forward.
Through the mist, you can only reach out, searching for the repose that evaded you.
The silence follows you like a pack of wolves, cunning and captive, awaiting your next move to strike.
He never said yes, did he?
At least he left you with one last kiss.
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