Vampire

A self loathing bed.
The door in the other room closed.
A knack, a loaded weapon
In hand, formidable.
For crissake, post-sex bolt out the door.

Prize getting naked regret.
The expression contradicts a room
For doubt.
“Sex,” under breath. “Over it.”

Stung and grateful for frustration.
Needed.
She couldn’t remember sated.
Vibrated senses.
Higher frequency too tight for her body.

Tangle still-ripe.
Bite drawn blood.
The strange tongue enigmatic.

The fleeting sense ought to be appalled.
Horrified.
But she lay dark, twisted.
Craved.

2014

A found-poem from Lara Adrian’s
novel, Taken by Midnight, p. 174