Bloody Party

Your metallic sweet taste
drips from my mouth,
down your neck,
between your breasts,
and over your hipspto pool around
naked feet.

My bite, an aphrodisiac,
as you moan in my embrace
while my teeth sink deep
into veins drawing
life into my own.

Your river of red flows, it travels
pulsates, it beats, a rhythm
keeping time to a force where
I now control its course.

Slower, fainter, weaker.

You gasp in ecstasy at your
perfect death.

I lay you aside,
and move on to the next,
after all this is my party
and I must attend to all
my guests.

By Philip Wardlow

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