Cult of Ammit

What love, if not mine, could burn as bright?
Against your skin it moved hesitantly.
You were the clipped bird that taught me flight
and watched silent as I plunged into the sea.

You were the threadbare peace I found solace in,
as rough heartbeats lulled me to sleep.
At your hands, I forgot what might have been
and found happiness that was not mine to keep.

You became the voices in my head,
my every breath, you claimed.
Turning from God, I prayed to you instead,
new faith, old lust: the beast you tamed.

I held on to the ghosts that I could not save
as you devoured my soul, ignoring my pleas,
ripped my still-beating heart from its unguarded cage
and left me carved open, half-dead on my knees.

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