Bloody Party

Your metallic sweet taste

drips from my mouth,

down your neck,

between your breasts,

and over your hips

to pool around

naked feet.

 

My bite, an aphrodisiac,

as you moan in my embrace

while my teeth sink deep

into veins drawing

life into my own.

 

Your river of red flows, it travels

pulsates, it beats, a rhythm

keeping time to a force where

I now control its course.

 

Slower, fainter, weaker.

 

You gasp in ecstasy at your

perfect  death.

 

I lay you aside,

and move on to the next,

after all this is my party

and I must attend to all

my guests.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

This poem was originally published in the online magazine called The Carnage Conservatory in 2012.