There’s a price you must pay.

I said, yes, of course. I’ll give you my blood.

I don’t want your blood, she laughed.

I looked at her, wondering what more I could give. I’ll give you my soul, I offered.

Oh, my dear child, she smiled softly, your soul is already mine, and each tear you’ll pay with you’ll see: it’s not the cuts that sting, it’s the salty water that drops on them.

So I give her my tears, hoping that Goddess or Words will, once in eternity, smile to me.

Alenka H., 2022

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