That your lips and your moans should be enough to mask the deafening drumming of your guilt. Your self-loathing. Your preconceived notion of safety.
But when your limbs have lost their strength to hold onto the body of the other, what will keep you bounded then?
I have stayed outside your home for too long and have borne the echoes of your frightened screams drowned and masked by the passion of the stranger you fool yourself into loving... or you fool yourself into thinking is immune to loving. That's where your notion of safety fails.
Discover that continent then while you profess to your motherland that there is no love in the discovery of its contours and moods.
Just pure savagery.
(As purely a savage as you... )
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