Sex Bruises

Do you remember the day we shared our first kiss at the cemetery, under the peach black skies
With the thick mist covering every tombstone in sight.
I can still taste the beet blood from your mouth.
How can I forget the way your cold lips brought chills down my bloodthirsty spine. I can still feel your long nails scratching On my back, almost peeling my skin of it borns.
At that steaming moment I was wishing I too could bleed, just like humans do.
Hoping maybe a sweat will come from my dry pores
And cool me down.
But flames of passion hotter then moltening iron kept boiling
Under my dark paled skin.
I could feel the wet grass drying below
Us on that grave we laid on.
I left a number of black love bites on your gray skin.
Traycing from your neck to your spotless bosom.
I can still hear you breathing heavily
Like you did when I scraped my rough hand with finger nails covered in blood.
Up your thigh, to you flat stomach and playing with your pieced belly button.
How I wish again to have your red greasy hair on my face
As I nibble on your earlobe, lick that black rose tatto
Behind your left ear.
Maybe reopen those two small bruises on your neck.