Your evils are lovely, he said
I’d eat you alive, was my reply
My love for you would be haunting
My sex more menacing
You’d think I was a succubus alight in your bed
And I…may…very well…be
You would know nothing more than the uninhibited passion
That would leave residual sensation across your wearying body
Leaving you lit with a wanting for my lip prints and fingertips
Burying themselves in and through your flesh and muscle
To your hardened bones
My whispered words licking trails of wicked thoughts
From your curvaceous ear to vulnerable neck to dark trailed navel
Becoming the sinister marrow that would nurture and sustain
you
As I’d mercilessly take every last drop of life
Each inconsistent breath from your body
Robbing you of rational thought
And being ever the generous ghost
Allowing your flirtation with sleep to grow awkward
Letting her pull you from me
Seducing you to dreams
Beyond the smile born from a menage a trois maybe
Your still would signal the hour upon which I’d take my
abrupt leave
To let you cool in a solitary fevered slumber
Twilight bed laced with my dark wanton scent
Of cypress, cloves, and embers still smoldering red
Your sheets baring the careless labyrinths
Mapped by my serpentine evils
Writhing atop and within the shroud of pale flesh
That clings to your bones
Like an impressionable blanket of December snow
E.A. O'Connell
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