Dead petals disgrace the floor that cleaves to my feet. Before me, a fire coughs flame as I draw a crisp blade across callow wrists. The bloodletting leaches self-pity from my soul.
In place of liquid life, I will fill my veins with heat from the hearth, a warmth to replace your heart with its caverns gone cold alongside a love now classified old.
As sanguinity soaks me, I recite silent prayers through gritted teeth and beg for your whiskey whispers to wane from my memory: flashes of foreplay and forbidden lust.
We existed in unconsummated conversations: titillating texts and evocative voice memos. Bodies intercoursing online.
Affection exhausted, only digital ghosts persist. As I step into the inferno and searing tongues take hold, paranoia consumes me, mi amor. A fear I was nothing more than your virtual whore.