![]() Have … what are they? Fae can’t have them. Helpmesomeonepleasehelpmemakehimstopmakethemgoaway. His tongue is in my mouth, and it’s tearing apart my soul. I thought the world revolved around them. That people were born and went to … what’s that human word? I dressed up for it every day. If my thoughts were coherent enough to form sentences, I would tell you that I used to think life unfolded in a linear fashion. Pri-ya, a Fae sex addict, I will believe there is no place, nothing else I would rather be. I know also, soon, I will no longer know even that. I know that I have fallen into enemy hands. He terrifies me, this one who keeps himself concealed. ![]() I catch a glimpse of skin, muscle, a flash of tattoo. Liquid spills over my tongue, drips down my throat. As he fills my body, he quenches my thirst with drink. I arch my back and beg for more with parched tongue, cracked lips. I char, my skin blisters, bones fuse from sexual heat no human can endure. ![]() I cannot see his face, no matter how I try. Ironic for the bringer of Chaos, creator of Calamity, maker of Madness-if that is who he is. My fourth lover-War? He ministers to me tenderly. Who’d’ve thought destruction could be so beautiful? Seductive. They surround me, my lovers, the terrifying Unseelie Princes. When I was in high school, I used to hate that Sylvia Plath poem where she talked about knowing the bottom, that she knew it with her great taproot and that it was what everybody else feared, but she didn’t, because she’d been there. ![]()
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