dinner of ash

you crave affection like it's something to be devoured like it's something to be ravished like it's something to be torn to shreds in a single sitting you crave until it burns up your throat it burns and burns until you do not recognise your voice you speak and speak and speak hoping that flame can extinguish you crave affection like it's something to be devoured yet you wouldn't recognise affection if you were served it on a silver platter