Victim
Blood...five redolent letters playing across my lips and tongue. A faint flush of scarlet...a veil that gently pumps what you hold dear into me. I can choose to make it an act of love...a prayer or song of offering, a gentle climax of unclaimed want; or I can rip it from you with a force that leaves us both blind with lust. The choice is mine to make...you have no voice in the sweet hell that throbs in my veins...you only serve a need that you cannot even recognize as something you once owned and understood...
So savor what passes this evening for an embrace...my fingers running under the worn collar of your shirt as my touch turns rough edges into silk and you stain my want with a violent crimson hush....
So savor what passes this evening for an embrace...my fingers running under the worn collar of your shirt as my touch turns rough edges into silk and you stain my want with a violent crimson hush....