venus was once a little girl until she was forced to be a vision.
there is an innocence in her eyes as she runs her tongue up your neck, along your jaw, over your lips, ever so slightly, because this is foreign to her: passion with the promise of love, not lust, a heart with no sharp edges. you tell her that you see her, that you love the heart in her flesh, not the divinity in her mouth, and she cries out loud, rosewater tears from opaline eyes melting like snowflakes on your tongue, they taste like candied grapefruit—still bittersweet.
she paws at your pectorals, makes a home inside your lungs, paints peonies on your eyelids with the blush covering her cheeks, you embody every single thing that was ripped away from her, all at once.
kiss me, you fool, she weeps, let me taste all the love i have missed.
you will give her every last drop