“Don’t worry. The vein isn’t cut,” you say and I
– no! Don’t touch me
“It’s not the problem”
I pull my fingers trough the trail of blood.
You are impure for sure,
but everyone, even the filthiest sinner is clean at the core,
inside, where it flows, I can smell it now, your innocent wanting, the growing need makes my stomach rumble
and I’m getting hungry I’m getting hungry I’m getting hungry
I need to breathe, need to restrain myself
I let my knees cave in and it’s better to fall, yes, better not to feel.
But of course, you catch me and your bony fingers dig into my hip
and trough your skin I can feel the life flowing, throbbing with fear
Your veins are shivering on my hipbone and my predator muscles are tensing
God I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry
Your wrist is resting on my cheek a droplet of blood staining my lips and
suddenly no price is too great
I dig trough your skin feeling every wrong you’ve done sting, an electric pulse on my tongue
and every cigarette you’ve breathed in and the virgin kisses you’ve stolen
The tears and heartbreaks and sweat and cries at the first thrust,
and beneath all that you’re pure,
it’s where your weakness lies.
You still dream of becoming beautiful one day
and full and rosy cheeked and hope that maybe someone like I will whisper your name
but all I do is devour and as I’m sating my appetite your eyes fade to grey
You’re pale now almost blue
And so much more like the creature you imagined
waited for you at the end of the tunnel but the light has gone out
the taste is fading and all that’s left is the sour
an empty vessel.
Ok look… I don’t usually write eroticism… but when I do there’s a lot of blood.