HIS WORDS

Words of poetry riddles with pain, anguish, and torment pulsing through each smile.
Bleeding out through his metaphors.
Moistening my lips as I stroke each line with a glance.
Eagar anticipation thrusting hard against my mental catacomb.
Your words are grinning as they penetrate my tight facade.
Words of pain I have relayed as well, letters on paper so you could say; moving maybe,  but not simulating.
His words slide down my central cortex opening my eyes spreading my perceptions wide so he can ravish my senses leaving me weak and craving more.
A slave to his vernacular, a servant to his inked sword.
A vampire of poetry I have become.