My body was made salve to soothe the blows of bitterness. His love was like embers smoldering in blistered hands, offering nothing but the pain of fresh wounds. In the shadows, he recedes who once sought his solace in my flesh. This is how Fate impresses with fear the marks of desire. They are embroidered on our bodies.
Desire devours the living in the burning season.
Its teeth scrape the length of our backs and necks. This brew fermented of fear and desire seeps through our skin like sweat, the smell rank. Like Psyche, we gazed at love's own face with dagger in hand, wary of the danger. Not guessing the price of doubt or the depths of the wounds of desire, I watched from the window as you left my door. But I have become a habitation haunted as if you were the indwelling possessor of my skin, the scar age has softened but not removed.