Bloodbound Devotion

I crave you in ways the moon would never confess

in the hush between heartbeats,

in the soft part of your throat

where longing feels almost edible.

Your love tastes like midnight

dark, metallic,

a warmth I was never meant to deserve

but still hunger for anyway.

If I were the beast they whisper I am,

I’d still kneel for you,

bare my fangs in reverence,

and offer you every jagged piece of me

to tear apart as you please.

Your pulse calls to me

not for its flesh,

not for its sweetness,

but for the way it spells my name

in every trembling thrum.

Let the world call this obsession.

Let them call it monstrous.

They have never known a devotion

so deep it aches,

so fierce it borders on feast,

so eternal it feels carved into bone.

Come closer, love.

Let me worship you

with the kind of hunger

that leaves marks even shadows remember.

If this is wrong, then let me stay wrong.

Some loves aren’t meant to be gentle.

Some loves are meant to consume and be consumed.