Love letter # 226

When you see the vicious volcano in me – all fire and spit and ash – what you are seeing is the conflagration in my soul. The one that still lights up the skies for you. Despite everything. Lies, betrayal, etc.

Perhaps one day you will wear my vitriol as a badge of honour. A flag that flies above your citadel, red like fury and desire.

Take the meanest words I have spoken and turn them on their head. Here then, the force of my loving you. I do not seek forgiveness or indulgence with this; I simply want to say that the volume of my angst is the leftover mountain of my affection. Perhaps you can take heart in this.

I do.





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