Author: Chelsea Yates
Oh… so… tantalizing, one caress
Then syringe whispers into neck.
Just so and woe head tilts as
Gloved hand lingers over bare flesh.
A trail of crimson crushed dress,
Oh no, hands meet mouths mesh.
And next… so still blade
Pressed wound fresh. As though
To heal from sin eyes dim
Breathless. Oh my, vixen’s tears,
Lashes smear; lust at rest. One
More kiss, a little twist then just death.