The hungry men crowd around me,
eyes glistening as they gaze upon my skin;
But one pair of eyes stands out from the rest -
they glisten, too, but there's more than hunger.
I feel connected, protected,
like I'm not just being devoured.
I am being nurtured.

The hungry men moan and groan,
fingers brushing against my neck,
but I step away, towards one.
He is not an eager beast, he is a flower, too,
disguised by the shadows.
The moonlight hit him right to show
fangs and claws and an evil glow.
Take the darkness away, I see
a kinder man staring back at me.
He touches to feel, he feels more than just
the rush of nectar beneath my skin.

The hungry men growl behind my back, but
he is cautious, slow, gentle, warm -
his heart is not a pile of scar tissue.
There are just enough scars for him to understand
that love and hate go hand in hand.
He opens under my touch,
reveals what few people see.
Trust is a foundation,
and we build our castle.

I turn to tell the hungry men goodbye.

He is a soul who needs to be saved,
Who wanders on his own
Who has scars on his soul.

And who am I to try to save him,
Me with the light gray heart,
Who knows the world but has no experience
Who still believes in light?

I am no one, and so is he,
But there's no reason for that to stop us,
No reason give in.

I think that with a bit of time,
Like a bird with a broken wing,
I can fix him.
I can teach him how to love again.

I always find the hungry men,
the wild men,
the ones who are barely restrained
And sometimes they lose control
and the fangs come out
and the claws slice
me into shiny little bits
Stain my petal-skin with blood.

I always find the hungry men,
who tear me apart night after night,
Who make me scream again and again
"Oh, please, not one more bite!"
I fear they will devour me
as they sip lightly on my nectar
But pleasure mixed with pain and fear -
Oh! Explosive, I cannot even think anymore!

I always find the hungry men,
Who make a flower bloom and bleed;
They tear me to bits and try not to breed,
*And in the morning I can still say
"Love."

The pleasure...is good. It is wild, and bright.
But...not the same. Not something to write in the stars, not
something that blazes across my skin,
why?
Why is it different?
Almost gray...

The winds beat relentlessly on my window, as if to say, "Someday, we will carry you away." Perhaps I will just let them take me...

This new exploration
that you're opening me up to
is fascinating and terrifying
and certainly a thrill.
Yes, you do know how to set
a pure girl's heart a-thumping;
You certainly know how to show her
the ways of the night, of sinning in the dark.
It's frightening, for sure,
to be opened and consumed by you,
but such a thrill! Oh, thank you,
for showing me this pleasure.

Ah, you're warm and safe,
yet distant, a little bit cold
It'll take some getting used to,
but I'm willing to try.