Aftertaste

Love is a four letter curse that voyages the soul.
My veins miss your touch though it lingers in the rust.
The fever in the wake of hungry shambles littering the air that breathes the flesh.
I am left...
You went right....
I can feel the sway of the moon light bathing the wounds you healed to life.
The gentle cohearsing of the rage beneath this rest.
Careless are my heartbeats when come to resolve of nothing less.
Still mangled in the whispers, the shadows of me rising to the occasion upon your lap.
We moved as you...
With the fierocity of the hunt... seeking the next bite, the next ache, the collapse into the unknown... torment and pleasure were the same.
Poisons can taste of sugar in a moment, placing you at your peak.
My tastebuds could never get enough of your eyes dancing against my tongue, the smooth drip of the growls captured in my lungs.
You are the spin in the room at midnight and again at one, opening me to your mouth to be devoured in tantric kisses, I am spent and longing all at once.
Consumed by the love of bones in all thats coated in your arms.