Believe it or not, there was once a time when I was wary of sucking the blood from your lips. It was so long ago, before I totally lost myself to them. I remember back when I first saw your mouth, it shone a brighter scarlet than any of the flamboyant cardinals fluttering outside of my window. The intensity of your gums burned my brown eyes so awfully that they turned the darkest shade of midnight. I know that should have turned me away, but I was hypnotized in a nanosecond. The only issue was that I feared I may drain too much from your veins and accidently leave you gasping for air. I had plummeted too far in love with you to allow that to happen.
But soon I came to learn that you liked the way your formerly white teeth stained crimson, and how your skin lost it’s pigment entirely. And I was more than honored that I had that effect on you. Upon the onset of your approval I grew far too comfortable, and before I could stop myself, I was so addicted to your body’s vital fluid that I couldn't even stomach solid food anymore. I'm afraid that all of my self control vanished when your olivine eyes began to glow a glossy silver hue. The palms of your hands could’ve been mistaken for ice and you often told me that your bones felt uneasy, like static. But regardless of any negative circumstances, you assured me that you adored the way you could feel me suckling on your ribcage, despite the fact that my lips were thoroughly attached to yours.
It all spiraled up to the night that I nearly extracted all of your blood until everywhere from your heart to your calves had been run dry. I can recall the terrified expression in your eyes so vividly that it’s as if I’m experiencing it all over again. That day, I was forced to cut the rope binding my teeth to your tongue, and shatter every last one of my bad habits. I realized that I had taken over your body until neither of us could identify ourselves anymore, and that was highly detrimental.
r.m.
halfempty