Lust

Come closer, dear.

Worry not, I won't hurt you! Slit my throat, I will. Slit my throat if I do. Frown, will you? Turn my elbows into knees. I'll break you, yeah? I'll make you mine.

Cry for me, darling.
Drain me dry.
Cry
I'll love you better.
Cry
I'll love you—

Harder.

Hold On

You,

Turn my skin into marble stone, whenever you frown. Please don't; I love you, I love you, and I'm sorry I never let it show.

Stick around, will you?
I promise, I promise;
I'm worth your time.

Theft

There I was,

Pressed against her window, peering through the blinds. Ah, lucky, lucky me! I find her lolling on the wooden floor, drinking the afternoon sun, trying to learn her see, saw, seen. Crunch, crunch, crunch, go the autumn leaves. Yes, lucky me! I squirm behind a shrub; a periwinkle, to conceal my boyhood obsession, hide my growing manhood; but surely, she heard me, and surely, surely, she noticed my—

Who are you?

Silly little thing, don't you know? I love you.

Then I,
Held her between myself and the floor.
And loved her.
Twice.
Thrice.
Until she was,
Mine.

Lover, I Don't Play to Win

The autumn crocus; standing proud with death at its feet.

Remember, a glimpse will last a lifetime, a taste would cost one, but for the raven it would not suffice, so it traded its wings for a nose and paws to dig with.

And for a moment she was gushing between his teeth; violet and sticky and sweet. He wanted to howl but she had stolen his voice. He tried to run but he no longer had feet.

In came the raven flapping its wings, Was it worth it? it said.

Yes, cried the wolf, yes, yes, yes.

But did I ever tell you, by the way? I never did like your face

Warm, wet lavender; insignificant, until it later occurred to me that it was hers. As was summer, and autumn and winter and spring. And I knew she had my heart, too. In her pockets, where my gods where.

Godless, motherless, and no Mrs. to my name. What about the children? Hers!

New beginnings, yes! Letting go and moving on, yes, yes! And what was that thing you said? 'Finally at peace'. Go ahead and smile, why shouldn't you? FINALLY AT PEACE!

FI-NA-LLY... at... peace.

Or, Goodbye

It was one of those nights where the moon was particularly proud, but he was hot and haughty as the summer sun. Eager to please, when I decided I was ripe enough to be picked. A flutter, a lone jolt of electricity, when his body shivered against mine. I adored him, when he loved me with his lips. I worshiped him, as he stole life through my wrists.

Then,

When I had nothing left to give, he wiped me off his chest and walked away. And there I was, dried and shriveled; a raisin.

And—for the very first time—alive.

Hedgehodge Overture

Beau Brummell in suede.
Coxcomb mahogany, dandy black.
Leather brogue; frankly, butter.
Hazel and yellow head, solid gold.
Wet lips of magenta, or, amaranth—excuse me, excuse me, now I see them pale.

Old-world politeness, oh, how I misseth thee! His words lined, double-lined, flexi-winged; to fulfill his duty, for her pleasure, for my—oh, never mind, he never prevails!

Ripples of jealous twangs, that filthy heart of mine, when he walked about the room. Nodding, waving; Napoleon, his name. How I longed for that golden pup! Nuzzling against my feet and mine, mine, mine! But look how much you've grown! And how strong you've become! Eyes of honeydew, once, but algae—proud, sickening algae—now. Dead then alive, hot then cold, then, then, a grin? But of course! He loves, loves, loves me!

A song.

Listen,
Do you want to know a secret?
Do you promise not to tell?
Closer,
Let me whisper in your ear.


I never loved him, and I never will, but his heart flutters and mutters and moans—and he's mine, mine, mine!