Itsjustkatseye7
you tell me you're afraid of my hunger, as if it lives only in my mouth.
as if it isn't threaded through my ribs, pooling low in my gut, gnawing at me every time you breathe too close.
you think i want to feed.
i want to want you less.
i have starved myself on purpose.
i have learned restraint like a prayer, teeth locked behind my lips, hands clenched at my sides while you exist so softly in front of me.
you call that love.
i call it survival.
do you know what it is to crave something that looks back at you with trust?
my hunger is not wild.
it is deliberate.
it is knowing exactly how your pulse sounds beneath your skin.
it is imagining the shape of you stretched across my table, not as a meal, but as a mercy i am too afraid to claim.
i could take you.
god, i could end this ache so easily.
one mouthful, and the hollow inside me would finally quiet.
but i do not want to consume you.
i want to be undone by you.
you offer yourself like absolution, like you could save me if i just leaned in far enough.
and i want to believe that.
i want to believe that if i drink carefully, reverently, if i tell you it doesn't hurt and make it sound true, then this hunger could become something holy.
but hunger is never gentle.
it does not stop when you ask it to.
if i feed, it will be because i have failed.
because loving you has made me weak.
because i would rather damn myself then spend one more night empty while you stand so close.
and if i leave you breathing-if i pull back with your blood on my mouth and your name in my teeth-understand this:
i am still starving.
not for blood.
for you.
and i do not know how much longer i can pretend that difference matters.