She is my Virus...

She is my Virus...

A Story by robertsteese
"

My Love. My Only Desire. Is My Only Death.

"
She explains to me that she is a virus. Destroying all that she consumes. I tell her I really do not give a darn. Life nor death as long as it is with her. She smiles with those angular scissors. She is wet with anticipation. She is desperately trying to hold it all in. She is lost in her excitement, in her lust. She stops her raven claw like hands from shaking. Her dark growing nails. Trembling . My feline friend. She really can't hold it all together. She sees only what her mind allows her to see. It sees blindly. Blindly and arrogantly. It only sees with partiality. I walk through the halls of her psyche. She is so vulnerable to me. She is as the moons reflection on a cold and breezy night in early spring. She hides behind her girlish charm and feminine frailty. Although I know she is anything, but frail. She is a killer. Every touch spills the plague that is her virus. However I am her perfect lover. For she cannot kill that which is already dead. I am not of this flesh. My blood is not running through warmed vessels of an inflamed body of life. I am cool to the touch. I am lost underneath the immortal night. I am darker than darkness. There is no light where I harbor. Not even the moon can break into the home of dread. We are those who always live but are decayed and never living.
She is more alive than I. She can be exasperated and sadly I cannot. She is still warm with the heat and perspiration. As I am as cold as a winter night. I cannot nor have I ever remembered the warm except when I am devouring the flesh of the living. She is not unlike any of them. She is still in some way unique and indifferent than any of them. She is sweet and dark in her own liquid of sins. She kisses with fury and passion of a man. Her flesh is still too gentle for that. She is a woman. She is frail in my strong hands. I have to remember not too crush her. I have to remember not too be to powerful in my brush of lust. She is the kind of female that awakens things in a man which can never be put back to sleep, no not ever. She is desire in the flesh. Not just mere desire. I am speaking of the kind you would kill for. The kind you beg and plead for.   

© 2011 robertsteese


Author's Note

robertsteese
A sketch of nothingness. . . . .

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Love it!! Very well written! I love the ending!!

Posted 13 Years Ago



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Added on November 26, 2011
Last Updated on December 3, 2011
Tags: Love, Death, Bliss, Pain, Pleasure.

Author

robertsteese
robertsteese

San Antonio, TX



About
I am a writer who's greatest influence is Clive Barker. I write supernatural horror combined with film noir. I have written a novel in a series. Currently working on several books and some short fict.. more..

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