What a pretty color.
Such a rich shade that covers a pale canvas of flesh.
A color so vibrant, so real, it was milked from the wounds from thine own skin.
How does it feel faux lover?
The bane of my existence.

I could count the drops of color if I just took one step closer to this painting.
Are you in agony?
Does your heart clench and twist as mine does?
As I stand in this pool of crimson liquid, I whisper to deaf ears.

I was such a troublesome creature to tame.
Did you think that by luring me with your appeal, that I would eagerly await your ****?
I am not so fickle as to fall for a man as wretched as you were.
Were. were. Were.

How does it feel, my faux lover?
Your empty, soulless eyes reflect in mine own as black as midnight.
Such a gentle ******.

I shake and quake as I reach a stained hand to fall against a cold, pale cheek.
Ahh, lover mine, our shades match.
My eyes close in bliss as the last drop flows from the canvas I have created.
Such a beautiful color.

A touch of red through an endless haze of onyx.
Marks of madness grazing the pale angle of your neckline.
Black locks spun from the finest of elders, touching just the skin of your shoulders.

To many, you are a God.
To me, you are but a man.

One with faults.
One with Courage.
One with strife.

But where is your courage now, oh warrior of men?
As you stare me down, betrayal clear in those dark depths.
Where, oh Where, will you run?

You can not hide in the darkness.
For I am already there.
You can not hide in the light.
For your skin it can no longer bare

Where will you go?
Stained with the liquid of sin.
Drenched in the smell of my skin.

There is no where to run.
No place to hide.
Face me with your courage, warrior.
We shall see if you will survive.