And you couldn’t quite resist could you, took a bite of her didn’t you and she was soft wasn’t she, she didn’t utter a word did she, she had trusted you hadn’t she – those warm eyes, those supple lips, those open hands – gave her self willingly to a man who promised to just taste.
What’s in a taste though?
She didn’t utter a word did she – nothing, not even as you broke; she didn’t utter a word did she – nothing, not even as you consumed her whole.
And tell me, was it worth it; tell me what it was like, to take and to take and to strip and to rip – to slash someone to the bone.
Denial, darling is a beautiful thing, but tell me, when you look in the mirror do you see the rotting.
I smell her on you, broken people sense these things – her taste lingers doesn’t it, the sweet taste though long since turned acrid lays rotting at the back of your throat doesn’t it and you can gurgle your salt water, you can drink your holy water, but it will not shelter you of her haunting.
Hurts doesn’t it?
Unbearable isn’t it?
I hope they see through your smiles, see through the pearl and into the rotting black teeth you’ve camouflaged so well.
Hurts doesn’t it, unbearable isn’t it, it’s getting harder and harder to disguise yourself isn’t it.