Blood Magick

I still feel you,

a serpent in my veins.

and wonder

if I still pull you-

Restless as the moon draws the sea.

Yet what have we ever known of sleep?

We don't rest, we just wait out the day.

Even in the day now I wish for night-cloaked in your darkness.

I feel the warmth of your hands with each pulse

and when my blood runs cold

it's because of a memory-

last january.

To which ended on the edge of a knife.

We suffered from pale fever- rather it kept us alive.

A blade often danced between us- traded turns to cut open a white snake as a sacrifice to Kali for winter venom.

A cold white snake should have been an omen to me.

In the stir of our chaos, between snake and thirst the blade met my flesh instead and with a hunger

both reverent and raw-

                                     they took my wound into their mouth.

A collision of both pain and worship unlike anything I have ever seen -

                                                                                                                 Or felt.

What form have I taken to their eye but a thing to consume-

                          an offering swallowed whole but untouched by the shadow of consequences.

In my concern my lover says,

“ I trust you.”

Now, I am no veiled prophet to their altar of worship.

Often do they rest on my temple floor, their breath heavy from the weight of their prayers.

But what is….this?

What is it that lies beneath the skin of this face that devours me so earnestly?

“I trust you”

Has now become a sentiment offered alone, fading in the silence of its return.

Blood magick- is a contract binding without a clause for reveal.

A life force for a life force.

What will you do with mine?

What have I traded it for without my consent?

Who will I become after this?

I fear you have altered my standard of devotion by becoming your prey.

I still feel you.

Like a serpent in my veins.

Wondering how to cope with the poison left behind.