She has me howling-
screaming to be awake.
Like sex, like seduction.
Addicted to the hating.
Addicted to the dying.
Addicted to the taste of blood on my lips-
The touch of nothing upon the velvet of my earlobes.
The sound of silk ripping around my bruised fingertips
She has me moaning, gasping.
Encased in pleasure.
Suicide without the guilt of leaving-
Without the guilt of making anyone sad but me.