i remember your sticky desire and i remember her disgust. in her eyes i was eve or lilith or whichever witch burnt. and you, my love, you were the holy spirit in god's eyes. the guilt you carry in your chest, you proclaim as your god. she carries on, deep inside, hidden, sometimes she awakes, deep in the night and she screams her lungs out. did you ever see lungs on the outside of a body? 

in her eyes i was eve or lilith or whichever witch burnt. yet with you, last night, i bloomed. she wished i would burn and she puts a match out of her pocket sometimes, you know? i see her do that, i see how intensively she holds it. how she is eager to start a fire. i think you see her too, but you would forgive her for anything. even if she burnt the whole world. she's angry, that is all. she deserves to be angry.

but no, my love, she deserves to be happy. she deserves to throw away the match box in the trash and burn the image of us only in her head. she doesn't deserve to rampage the world with the heavy anger in her heart. she deserves to live. she deserves to feel like never before. 

i come back to my heart, you call me selfish. i have not suffered, you tell me. i have not felt pain, you tell me, this time louder. 

i have not felt any pain, yet continously i burn at the stake.