Oh bitter, bitter love.
Tasting so vile and pungent in my mouth, I can only spit it out.
A screaming torture in my ears, it deafens me to hope, denies me of truth.
A lash so deep and jagged it tears my flesh to the well of my heart.
A vision of a nightmare locked behind the lids of my eyes, burnt into my memory.
The odour, acrid with deceit and perfumed with adultery.
Oh sadness.
Defiling my senses.
About the Creator
Michael Saunders
Life is a story being written. We do not need to experience everything to imagine it. That is why stories can move us so.
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Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️7 days ago in Fiction
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