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THE EUCHARIST OF HUNGER. ༒︎
An appetite made sweet by the thing it covets.

Redly beating, my tender heart ripens beneath your keeping, a sweetness carefully preserved beneath the flesh. All evening, I have nursed this fever, this dreadful little devotion that makes a feast of longing and calls it love. Come near enough to claim what has been prepared. If adoration means to consume and be consumed, would you devour me whole?
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