My crown of shame

I developed a habit of taking things that weren’t mine.

Just to prove that I could.

I found a sense of pride and accomplishment in having. In conquering.

Not realising it was me who has given myself up.

Sold my soul for a taste of victory.

The victory that came with a crown of shame.

Little did I know I could never remove that crown.

How was I to know I’d lose more that I gained.

How was I to know that guilt is an emotion that consumes you, paralyses you, seeps out from your pores, and tucks you in each night without fail.

But would I do it all over again?

Probably.

It was all worthwhile.

To see you kneeling before me.

Awakening my body with your tongue.

To see the look of desire in your eyes.

The hunger in how you consume me.

The longing in your skin.

The fire in your soul that you’ve long extinguished.

Yes, drape me in a robe of guilt.

Let me wear my crown of shame.

I’d do it all over again.

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