KylieTheFae

Is it because of its crimson color? Or the way it tastes? Why must I love blood? Is it because of the its sharpness? Or the sound when the blade cuts through a throat? Why must I love knives? Is it because of the sounds of their screams? Or way their eyes glaze over? Why must I love murder?

I screamed to you, You did not listen, Into the peaceful glade you went, Right into the haze of black smoke, From dead and departed souls. The dawn light shone bright, As you slipped upon the entwined roots of fate, Roots that ran deep, Burrowed into the dark ground, Only broken by the sad and lonely graves. Into one of these graves you fell, Your health failing, Your sins forgiven, As you found the company of skeletons, And long-departed friends. I screamed for you once more, This time you answered, Along with a horde of other souls, You climbed out of your grave, And pulled me in with you. Your bones grasped my arms, And my panicked bre

Eyes stare at nothing, For they rotted away years ago, Caramel-colored skin is now white, For it has been replaced with bone, Mouth is in a permanent grimace, For she will be forever frowning about her death.

I watch her tired eyes as I swing the knife, They show fear, apprehension, dread, Then I slash her flesh open, Blood spills everywhere, And then her tired eyes cloud over.

I kiss your cold lips longingly, Knowing you won't kiss me back, I press my warm body close to your icy one, With no reaction. Is it wrong that I love a corpse?