I was torn away from my frigid, lonely, dark home.
She placed me in a fragile glass house.
I felt the warmth of her body caressing me.
Holding me.
Loving me.
She admired me.
Adoringly stared at me.
She appreciated my body.
She was drawn to my taste.
I am sweet yet bitter.
A constant reminder of a multitude of relationships past.
They too were as poisonous as I am;
Always sweet but bitter towards the end.
I left the same aftertaste of forgotten men.
We both slightly burned her throat.
We both made her act impulsively.
We both make her bend to our will.
And just like her past relationships,
I was entirely consumed by her.
From the moment her lips wrapped
around my transparent encasement
I knew that I would be less than
I was prior to our encounter.
I knew and yet I invited it.
I invited her.
I let her deplete me.
I welcomed her firm grasp
and her heated lips to
part and to consume me
like a rabid fire devouring
a forest that has long been dead.
I rippled in rebellion and yet
I let her take me in.
Now my fragile home is empty
with mere traces of my existence
left behind.
Droplets of crimson colored life
which once grew free.
Crimson life that aged.
That waited.
Crimson colored droplets which
now reside upon her lips.
Crimson which now resides
within her.
Within her my home is no longer fragile.
My home is now warm
and wanting
and waiting
to find a home as well.