Aster’s Reviews > The Fifth Wound > Status Update

At such moments—breathless, ransacked by tenderness—I could hardly look at him: I was afraid of showing him too much of my love, which wasn’t only love but also something like a rotten peach eaten alive by its own sweetness. What had begun as infatuation had grown too ripe, so that even though its surface was pinkly soft already the flesh had moldered. I had an inner life so luxurious and no sense of moderation;