Tell me,
how does victim taste on your burning tongue?

That sensation, that fear and uncertainty-
crippling, no?
closing your throat?
shooting sparks down your legs?

‘Tis a shame you’re broken, my dear girl.
That you are simply not strong enough,

that you have created a life for yourself
where your only hope is to be saved, yes?
gathered up?
helpless?

‘Tis a pity
there isn’t a woman on fire by your side

burning tongue in your ear,
filling your lungs with infectious smoke,
keeping you warm despite cold shoulders.

What a waste.
What a shame.

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