Misery

August 2016

I can smell the blood on your lips and the coffee on your finger tips.
Feel your tongue on my hips.
You swallow me whole, your whispers mouthing words to my ears.
Suggesting just what I want to hear.
I listen for your breathing, my guts dry heaving.
I'm sick and infected, your love I've injected.
My lungs black and grey,
Every time you're away.
But I am your prey, and that's all, the perfect predator doesn't wear coveralls.
You'll not get caught in your plot, void of all rational thought.
my eyes rolled back, neck slacked...
Alas.
I'm at your beckoning call,
you won't catch me if I fall,
unless it's in your web,
unless i end up dead,
whatever it is in your head,
won't get me into your bed.
Her lipstick and mine aren't quite the same shade, my darling dear I know you're trying to get laid.
You can lick me black and blue, I just won't come to you.