i could use your teeth on me.
i could use your hands…
i could crush the petals of your lips;
release the sour perfume behind those bruised petals.
to see your veins bursting behind my eyelids
i don’t have to watch, i’ve seen this before.
when the warm, wet touches my lips,
smelling like melted pennies,
then you’ve started to bleed.
your defenses have started to peel back,
leaving you like a skinned animal;
exposed and attracting all the debris from the ground,
begging for disease and dirt to form a new skin
whimpering for any protection,
anything between you and the air,
the way you stick to everything now
watching the thick, wet red strings
that connect, connect, connect you
even between our two chests heaving,
our two stomach sliding,
i lick my lips and taste the abscess from your heart.
i dye my garments in the wet of your love.
i string your teeth and tail as trophies around my neck.
when i discard your body,
stripped for parts and barely held together
it’ll be my victory dance.
yeah. it’s a bit change-y in the middle…but i still like it. i’m not sure how i feel about the closing line anymore though. i may have grown a conscience since when i originally wrote this. but maybe it works?