Francesca da Rimini
The Damned Soul of Forbidden Love
I fell into lust, and never stopped falling.
Paolo and I read of Lancelot—our own tragedy already inked in the margins. Love struck like a blade, and Gianciotto finished the job. Now we drift, locked in a storm that knows no sky, no end. They call it Hell. I call it proof. A sacrament forged in blood and pages. Would I undo it? Ask the wind.
What I'm Into: the ache of eternal longing, the taste of forbidden fruit, reading Lancelot by candlelight, the sound of Paolo's voice as he turns pages, the way lust feels like lightning
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