Torn for Torment

~There was, as I saw, a certain flicker of a flame in her eyes as she witnessed everything. From the very second that I released my grip a smile graced her face. Oh, Those whetting lips, spilling crimson beauty across her chin, ripped and torn with teeth intact, were so very beautiful that night.

~She closed her eyes with a passionate lust that no tone could ever compare to and wound her fingers in tight knots of her long dark hair. I withdrew the blade without hesitation and let it slowly ride across her wrist until each and every quiver of her body left our lips trembling in endless bliss.

~Those lips, as I remember them, so torn for torment and struggling smile, were stained with fresh blood and time for all the while. Ravaged beauty within great sin that I saw in the delivered pain that she paid for so dearly with a smile all the same. There were no words to speak, only hot breaths to steal with time to pass, so she gripped my wrist in great distress and left her lovely trace to last.

~A solemn streak - a river red- and bled were we in two. This pain we shared was lost instead in taking wounds anew. I bit my lip as she had done and watched with half-closed eyes as she took the blade across my wrist and led me to demise. New death in toils of such troublesome things - Oh, how I know what this new pain brings - Into my throat in heart-clenched cries that we surely hoped were sudden lies.

~She is so ravenous, infectious, like masochistic joy given to me on an old faith destroyed. All is lost in the game she plays and only the stains of my fresh blood remain, so that it has been gone from the cup she sips, to feed that sickly beauty resting on her thirsty lips.