#i wanted to write a dream-drabble about the way ryu views her innermost emotions

[aaternum-a]

If a soul could eat stars, she imagined this one devoured thousands. But instead of the sun, she’d become a volcano. A pyre billowing beneath her veins where blood should have been. It burns, but it doesn’t bleed through her spaces.  If she presses against her throat, she can feel where it swells in tides. Out of delight. In fury. And she swallows it. Again and again. See a volcano is sun-kissed without its light.  When it erupts, no one wants its warmth.