LestatMalfoy

You see these shell-cracked hands, these bare-roughed, red limbs? They can never be pretty for you, like I’d like them to, but they will write words for you; pages, scrolls, unending verses for you. So many words you’d get tangled, you’d forget the dry cracked skin that created the sea you’re drowning in. You hear this heart, this hollowed out, still beating drum? It’s a tarnished organ, a thumping muscle that’s still broken, but it keeps going for you. It pushes and pumps this blood in your name, in your memory and it sings loudly for you. I wish that it were whole and open for you, but it will remain constant, beating if only to be near you. You hear these words, the ones I find so hard to say? The words that leave me bare before you, in all the imperfect glory that is my life in your hands. They will tangle themselves inside you and pull you in, to kiss these lips that long to touch your skin.

The cruel night cloaks a clever beast as she wanders out into the trees. Her scent, feeble and tempting to his open nose. Teeth gleam and his mouth is dry with temptation. Tasty treat she appears to the wolf, but is this meal worth the danger of attacking in the open clearing? Worth a night time hunter lurking in the woods for a kill? The chances are slim and he licks his lips. She will taste so sweet, and he aches for that first bite. The stalking is his favorite part, as he watches her, unaware of the beast so near. He almost loves this girl. She will be killed with passion, devoured in admiration. A perfect murder and a thrill of their love. He lets her hear him, brushing near a tree, and she glances around in fear, wondering if someone is there. He can hear her heartbeat quicken and she picks up her pace. He’s wondering if he should prolong this torture or make himself known for what he is soon. Both possibilities have merit. Will this one scream or gasp so delightfully to his