𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 ||𝑷𝑱𝑴||

The Taste of Your Heart

I ran from love like it was a curse, a sickness that hunted in the dark.
But it found me... in him.

His eyes pulled me under like midnight oceans. His smile was a blade, carving me open until I bled devotion. His touch burned like venom in my veins, and still-I craved it. I craved him.

He whispered that he loved me, but his love was fangs sinking deeper, a hunger dressed as desire. Love does not drink you empty. Love does not hollow you into silence.

So why did I stay? Why did I give him my throat and beg him to take more?

Now my heart trembles in his hands, still beating, still bleeding, still his. But my soul is gone-drained, devoured, nothing but a shadow clinging to his shadow.

And the taste of the end is always the same.
Like blood.
Like love.
Like death.