A martyr, dead by his flesh,
with pink-red jawline,
and rotten lips,
has peculiar pull for me tonight,
so I make my way closer,
as he sizzles that snake like tongue,
and with my soft mouth, I make love to his,
bite away part to reveal few teeth,
just enough to pull them out,
underneath, I find the letter long searched,
but oh,
disappointed at reveal, as letter states:
what you search cannot be found, my friend