blinking euthymia

But you don't know what hell you put me through
To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you
To feel your weight in arms I'd never use
It's the god that heroin prays to

did he notice the vibrating thumps of her heart? the burn on her cheeks? perhaps his eyes caught the way her pupils dilated. it seemed like vines adorning thorns flourished in her lungs. like his words and dauntlessness sparked a storm that washed away her past ideas of divine perfection.
that poses the question; is perfection really defined as pristine and uncut? or is it up to the narrative?

credits
writing, ocs: me
plot: @/thedaffodilfox on tiktok (i saw this prompt on their account and a comment saying they should make it a trend. the creator replied with a bubbly "yes!" but if said creator of this prompt does not want this story published then please kindly dm me to take it down. enjoy!)