My God is a jealous one.
Wrathful like an Old Testament deity.

So that no man can ever love me, he tears off the skin and flesh of my face in long, agonizing strips.

In addition to warping my body he deforms my very heart, unraveling it like yarn and wrapping it tightly around itself, halting the motion of the gears until all I can do is obsess and ruminate and hunger, not in the way you would want a woman to hunger and yearn but similar to a mangy starving dog, teeth sharp and like rusted metal spikes in my mouth, starving like a bear trap, like an open grave, a rotting hole in the ground, a cavern wriggling with larvae desperate to burrow into my beloved's remains, make their home into him, eat away bits and pieces and dig their little tunnels into him, much in the same way that he is eating me. To feast upon, to devour, to digest until you are of one flesh. What I wouldn't give to be one of the cells in your body!