A short developing story:
Part 1: The Event
Swallowed love is as ripe as peach nectar; animal skin smooth and kind. A million young suns at the end of nerves rush to breathe in oxygen at the surface. Tingling. Blood warm throughout. Vectorous affectations, side by side, movements controlled by poetry.
Part 1a: AMOR FATI; The realisation
How unbearable to be so loved and to love as I have never before. How cruelly this love sits in my stomach, unprecedented in its resolve.
Part 2; The Eternal Recurrence.
Legless and senseless but loved. Pulsing beats and embryo rifts permeate from below. Sharp implanting in my spine, a melody resuscitating a tired soul from sleep. Cultivated but neglected in real meaning; an integral part of myself will be taken away.
Part 3; The end has light and darkness, fury and delirium.