Warm Blood

I look on with curiosity as a warm blooded woman brushed my path, her eyes consumed by curiosity as well.

And at once I tell myself:

"No. My cold blood must remain frozen in order to remain fresh!"

And so I accept a dance with only the finest of dark, wicked, Princesses with cold hearts.

We Kiss and never kiss again…

I write to her:

Your lips to mine are but a smattering of sin upon my many, many years. Your black lipstick is never to leave me but it is never to be remembered either.

I desire warm blood.

In a letter I scrawl to an audience of none:

Sister Curiosity where art thou?

A light wind blows the light from my candle. It is dark.

A mysterious woman kisses my neck.

But I, being numb, know not whether those lips are warm or cold.