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.