Little Horcruxes

It’s the way you say my name,
Striking primordial chords, almost forgone.

And just like I’m hopelessly drawn,
In the vacuum your words have left.

My name lilting on your tongue,
Brushing against its soft curves.

And it lives, it breathes,
An abomination if one ever was.

And you love the ripples you create,
On the surface of my soul.

The black of your eyes dances like naked flames,
The image smeared, a cursed, hallowed mirth.

My soul rips asunder,
And the tiniest of pieces falls apart.

It seeks you out with a feral rage,
And kisses your lips with an untamed grace.

A little posy settled on lips so rosy,
A collection of little horcruxes.


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