so sweet we were when we were children
yet now so bitter we are
existing as the words on the tips of our tongues
admiring the shadows of trees
cast upon our pale bodies
beneath the pale moon

that bottle could be bigger
as we beg for more silence
I feel as a vampire in the quiet
as I listen to the beat of her heart
churning her poisoned blood
expanding her veins
and raising her skin
from somewhere underneath-
fire
within fire
fermentation
of soul

and it becomes inviting
as I have aquired a taste
for Hell
and my lips are warm
and pulsing
loose like a wild flame
melting into-
teeth biting
and it is like the old man said
with no words
only wisdom
and blood on his lips

it bleeds out from me
like the raging seas
comanding stories
of ancient mysteries
only seen
by those who lost their words

"Do not waste"
she says,
as she notices the red
trickling down my lips

"Drink"
she says
and of course,
I do

just as one
bleeds their own blood-
with the sweet smile
of when I was a child
who had first undestood
what it meant to drink-
of course,
I do