With fire in her blood
and a tongue that
cut and soothed in the same breath,
she had to be a dream.
Whether she was blood-soaked or
wrapped in gauzy silk, it didn’t matter.
I’d worship her anyway.
Kali in the flesh,
she was a devil on the battlefield,
and an angel in my arms.
Her teeth were on my throat,
her hands were in my hair,
and I knew that it would never
get any better than this.
Call her what you like.
Goddess, siren, monster.
It didn’t matter
because she’d never be mortal.
We’d live forever,
The taste of misery, lust, and
those I’d sacrifice for her
on our tongues.
As the days turn into years
and the years into centuries,
all that is good will be
as good as gone.
She may hate me.
She may claw my eyes out,
call me a traitor, and
banish me from her side.
I will never regret
the little people I ended
to keep her forever breathing.
Because she will always come back to me.
Only me.
Copyright © 2019 by Nita Pan
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