He didn’t see it… in the moments where the love bled out of me,
like the leaving of a plague.
I boiled it forth from me.
I scourged myself of love in its rampant, volcanic rivers.
I died, and I lived for it… till I denounced it.
Let every sand grain coarsely erode me, till nothing but deference is left.
Nothing but the blackest night.
Nothing but the darkest soul.