this isn’t fair. the way i crave you like a ghost craving the warmth it forgot. like i’ve known your pulse in another century, under a different name, in a church set on fire by our own hands. you owe me nothing, but i feel it anyway, the ache of past debts crawling through our veins, the blood remembering what the mind denies.

i beg for your love as if it were resurrection. i could be anyone you want, wear any version of me you dream, if only you’d look long enough to see the ruin glowing beneath the skin.

you don’t know it, but i’ve written our love into the walls of my skull. i’ve built altars in daydreams, burnt offerings made of my calm. when i moan your name, it’s not lust. it’s a summoning. a desperate hymn. a call to drag you home from the grave i keep digging with my devotion.

and still, you don’t hear me.
and still, i keep digging.