You, my dear, are hungry;
Impossible to sate.
and I am a martyr;
That makes me your buffet.
that grumble in your stomach
is like music to my ears
for it only means one thing:
you are coming; you are near.
Here, you'll find,
there is no line:
if, and only if,
you decide to be mine.
I offer you my heart,
so devour me, my sweet.
It should be only MY flesh
into which you sink your teeth.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
You, my dear, are hungry;
Impossible to sate.
and I am a martyr;
That makes me your buffet.
that grumble in your stomach
is like music to my ears
for it only means one thing:
you are coming; you are near.
Here, you'll find,
there is no line:
if, and only if,
you decide to be mine.
I offer you my heart,
so devour me, my sweet.
It should be only MY flesh
into which you sink your teeth.
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