Ms. Macabre Virgin

I had a day dream once
A twisted fantasy of carnal delight
Of her in those adorible leather stiletto boots
And serial killer pupils that mocked celibacy
She was injecting kerosene into raw veins
And igniting the erratic pulse of an addict
Coaxing the sweet shiver of cockroaches slithering beyond skin
Multiplying as they often do
Trailing from that sweet spot between my shoulders
To that ecstatic serpentine muscle clenching of the abdominal

A grotesque comparison only one as lovely as she would appreciate
Little Ms. Macabre Romance
That malevolent cigarette kiss
With cancerous desires of affliction
Oh how I did graciously comply
With bindings that seared her delicate flesh
Atop silken sheets that caressed her phantom skin
And the gothic romanticism of Peter Stele's Black No.1 played in the background

The perfect tortured vessel of masochism
Quivering lightly in innocent anticipation
I teased my precious Lolita
Slicing daggers gently with eyes that roamed
Watching silently as she squirmed
Becoming uncomfortable when she realized how exposed she truly was
Until her breathe caught as our eyes met
And the ache began to all but bleed between her thighs

She was rewarded with the art of subtle lip brushing
Descending as butterflies glided past her chest
Past her hips
A blade was unsheathed
And the world eclipsed as her inner thighs were grazed with a silver tounge
The crimson wine was lapped agonizingly sluggish
And moans erupted as pubic hair was nuzzled
And passion lead to lust

Sweat beaded her forehead when she was released
And her stare shrieked the question
Am I still a virgin?
But we embraced as words were left unspoken