Not saying I don't like you.
Your skin, your hair, your eyes...
I'd just love to see your blood,
to taste your sweet demise.

I love your pretty teeth,
shiny, sharp, and red.
But oh they'd be so much sweeter,
tasting them while you were dead.

Darling, little Moon Beam...
shining so wonderfully 'Blue'.
Let me see your Bones.
Let me finally taste you.