metaphorgirl

against the odds, you search for her.

the light filters through her soul like something holy and in quiet awe you found salvation in the form of a woman—sacred and sinful. 

she comes with redemption and forgiveness; she licks the wounds clean.

you are resurrected and exiled into her eternal light.

you meant to take, but she gave. not of her body—but of her mercy. and now you kneel not out of devotion, but out of disbelief. 

she lets you touch heaven with dirty hands. lets you whisper lies against her skin, just to hear them break inside your mouth.

she unmade you with a look, rewrote you

with her breath. she is the serpent and the scripture, the goddess who knew you’d kneel—

not for worship, but for penance.

and still, she opened the gates. now you spend your days trying to be the man she saw inside your ruin.

you wanted to see what it feels like to be forgiven by someone who could have destroyed you.