INFATUATION
by Melissa R.

I.

Do you want him?

To claw at his face

And rake your fingernails down his back?

Sink your teeth into

The cool, pale flesh of his neck,

Feeling the dark, dormant blood

Tickle across your tongue.

Forbidden fruit.

Taste him, lick him,

Cold salt and peroxide

Fizz on your lips.

Press a kiss to the frozen pulse points-

Wrist, throat.

Restart a dead heart.

Long, toned body stretched along yours,

And you arch, toes and fingers extended,

As though you could have MORE-

Your flesh begs against his.

And you scream, because he's

So GOOD.

And because of what it is you do.

Is this what you dream of,

Sitting in a dark, moonlit bedroom,

Remembering who was, and thinking of who could have been?

Is he who you see?

Do you want him?

II.

Do you want her?

To hold her down and

Stroke her soul to the breaking point.

Taste her blood,

Sipping it like a vintage chardonay.

Love her to the core, until she begs you to

Oh please, please, yes, oh, please, NOW!

Her body weeps for your touch,

And it tenses and strains in the darkness,

Petite frame flexing beneath you,

Buttermilk complexion flushed and opaque.

Arms grip you, holding you down,

And for the moment all you know is her,

Her body, her eyes, the hands that clasp to you like a religion.

Here is life.

Here is warmth.

Her heart thrums against your chest, the erotic beat of the living.

Is this how you wile away the hours of your daylight dreams?

Is she who you think of?

Do you want her?

The End