If love were a predator,
I’d let it hunt me down.
While it prowled,
I’d shuffle the leaves
just enough to be heard.
I’d welcome the weight
of its body against mine.
And when it struck,
I’d go down smiling—
Let it take me.
Let it tear me open.
Let me blissfully bleed my life away
as its mouth claimed the tender flesh
of my thigh
a mark not of death,
but devotion.
Because life without love
is just survival
anyway.
-M.L.
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