Melting Butter Throat
I can hear your rasping breath
desperate not to be heard
my throbbing heart
pumping the blood
to the hand that covets the blade
The shadows you choose to shelter
are my hunting grounds
simper and bleat
Soon your blood
will pool around my feet
I hear you pleads to your God
But nothing will change my course
lick my lips
strengthen grip
slip the glinting steel
in melting butter throat
twisting scrapes the bone
bubble and gargle your dying blood
look you in the eye
as you leave this spot
Your crumpled pod now
lies upon the floor
but the evil in me cries
more...i need more
Copyright © Christopher Quigley | Year Posted 2020
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