My need is moon: the way it silvers nape,
your neck with veins pulsating, waiting
as the paleness of my hands, as snakes
are reaching; I’m a shadow; more a shape
of want. Your breath still shallow; longing
craving for a sacrifice: for me your warmth;
You sigh: “In darkness is my true belonging”.
You tense as from behind I wrap my marble arms
around you waist, and trace your earlobes
with my icy tongue. “I’m ready to be dead
alive with you”, you meet me with your lips
as midnight tolls, with moon you flower spread
and when you climax from you neck I sip
my needs from you, and as your heartbeat cease
your eyes turn green; your smile is pale, diseased.
Today I host at toads, and I want you to write about the creatures of the night. Not the nice and cute of trick or treat, but the true horrors and lust that undeads bring.
I will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning.