Vegetus Cruour

This

Is a memory

She saw me watching
Her
Seduced by my cold stare
Intent
Morbid

We talked of death
Of words
Music

Then we kissed

I bled for her
To help or forget the words
Carved into her wrists

We educated ourselves
With each other’s flesh
Bathed in a halo of sweat
The perfume of sex
Heightening the words
We bled upon our pages

It was perfect

For a time

This

Is a memory

Memories

Don’t always

Fade

© 2011, Mosquitobyte