LOVE ME LIKE A CURSE
A circle of roses, bleeding.
A silver crown pierced by thorns.
A pair of red, slitted eyes above a mouth full of fangs.
A girl in the center, eyes wide, hands outstretched.
Offering.
I didn't sign that painting with my name.
I signed it with a symbol I’d never used before. A rune I must've seen somewhere in the depths of my soul, etched in instinct. When it dried, I sold it anonymously at the Illumina Exhibit show my college hosted. The buyer paid a ridiculous amount for it. I didn’t ask who they were.