Dearest, I'm sorry
For all that I've done.
For forgetting you in webs,
Doubt hath spun you upon.

Tell me my dear,
Am I an annoyance,
For if you are happier elsewhere,
I'd even give you guidance.

Slap me, punch me,
Do what you will.
As long as we're good,
The pain shalt be killed.

I swear on my honor,
My pride and my love,
I will never hurt you,
I'll be your angel from above.

I'm the kind of girl
who will tell you stories
of heart breaks,
and lovers,
and their tragic ends.
Then, I'll drive you madder
by kissing your best friend.
I'll have you hooked on
lust-filled-drama,
like a ***** on heroine.
And you'll try to walk away,
probably storm off in a heated rage,
and tell all your friends
how "awful" I am.
But, I know for sure,
*you'll come crawling back again.

I miss you
The most when
I know my heart still beats,
Because I miss you every moment
I'm alive
Except when I'm asleep
Since you're much too
Perfect
To live in my
Nightmares
Because you're a dream
And I'm sorry we woke up
To this cold reality

I wished for you
excessively.
  greedily.
     immeasurably.
I craved you for days on end
and finally,
   finally.
I got to see the way
your lips form around the precipice
   of my name;
I felt your hand on my waist
as your touch provokes every minute nerve  
      in my body;
I drowned myself in the  
   depth of your eyes
that glisten with wonder as you    
      decipher
the spell you've cast upon me
and how it speaks volumes of every
   fairytale ever made;
and I have had a taste of all of this
    I've had you
    right within my breadth,
just until the warmth
    of the rising sun
  kissed my eyelids awake,
like the tender whisper of the    
       cosmos
or the discordant bellowing
of the void
   as it reminds me:
      You are unattainable.
Right then again I was able to  
   comprehend
that you will remain an illusion to me
      until our paths cross once more
   and in that moment,
nothing will be capable of surpassing
      the bewitchment
   the resplendence
the luminance
of the mere reality that is you

He spots his prey in the gloom of the dark,
He approaches teeth showing.
His wits are Sharp like polished fangs,
His thoughts solely on hunger.

She is unaware of his fixated eyes,
As she looks to quench her thirst.
He approaches with caution and mimics,
He sips purely to put her at ease.

He pounces, she is overwhelmed, subdued,
He drags his prey to his den, time to fed.
They pant and moan and cry out,
As they finish their intimate act.

He's full, she's used up, it's done.