you sense me before i strike, fangs out, ready to sink into your peach-flavored skin, your silky ribbon blood, the thickening pulse of your heart, your loins, your desire to know life and death and what lies beyond it all.
you grasp behind you, desperate for purchase, to yell out, to demand help, saving; but also to demand more, deeper, wanting me to learn all of your essence, your childhood dreams and disappointments, the way the church held sway over your mind and soul, how the devil on your shoulder laughed in your ear, promising treats and rewards.
oh that you turned your back on those rich desserts, that icing of life, the way the heat of skin against your own skin might feel; how glorious a heartbeat might feel atop your own, flesh sweaty, begging, asking for more, and further still, the fear of knowing that desire, knowing that it would be your downfall, that you’d allow that inner self to waken, to build into a crashing crescendo that might end in salvation… or damnation.
both seem appealing. and they are.
i know salvation.
i know damnation.
i am both.
i am here to deliver both to you in the sweetest hollow points of my fangs.
i feel you wilt with acceptance before you do. welcome, my love.
welcome to the darker, sweeter side, my love.
but for now, be still and let me feed.