I took a creative writing class for fun for my last university semester last year. My professor called it "graphic" and "scandalous", almost to a fault. I wanted to share it now that I've gotten over the embarassment of it coming from a genuine place. (Mild NSFW warning!)

La petite mort

I never understood why they called it la petite mort,
a little death.
At least, until I met you.


The haze around me is thinning.
The haze we threw ourselves into, hands interlocked,
the haze we lost ourselves in,
the haze we danced inside of.

And now I can see what I've done.
My hands are on your neck,
your laboured breathing erratic, your mascara running,
your skin so smooth and supple, now it's scratched all over

I've defiled you. You will never be the same. A little death.

There's a hole in my chest.
A hole full of sin, fleshly and carnal
A hole full of shame
A hole I opened for you.

And now I see what I've become.
My heart laid bare,
My hunger and thirst, my desire to conquer
My soul so gross and ugly, now you've seen all of me.

I'm a monster. I will never be the same. A little death.

And yet you're smiling.
A smile so full of adoration, of reassurance,
A smile so warm and full of love,
A smile you've chosen to only show me.

And now you're holding me in your arms,
Our hearts connected,
Our souls intertwined, with all their beauty and flaws
Our marks on each other so ethereal, yet so permanent

To be loved is to be changed. A little death.