[another dedication to s, from my notes app]

𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 (𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙮) 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙨 /anthologies of prose and poems/

[art, dedicated to myself]

SUSURRATE LEVITICUS THROUGH THE BERMS OF MY WEATHER-BEATEN THIGHS.

❝its not love if it doesn't burn you alive❞ the tides always carry a part of our hearts away with them as they flood over graveyards of drowned skeletons with liquid hearts still seeping out of their broken ribs. sayra knew cinizia was nothing but a catastrophe－a heartwrenchingly beautiful one, but nonetheless still a catastrophe. the moment cinizia saw sayra she could feel her accursed veins hum with putrescent poison as the familiar ache which she had learnt to numb over countless years came alive. all sayra wanted to do was leave the town which has never been her home, what she didn't expect was to be caught in ilvermonia's deliquent goddess's web of spun sugar lies and satin touches.