her wings
were goldspun
gossamer
grotesqueries
flapping wetly
in the
witching hour
an angel
gone feral
a succubus
in innocent repose

still i could not
bleed enough
to satiate her
horrible hunger
a wizened husk
raspily begging
for one more chance
an ending disguised
as fresh beginnings

a new start down
the road to ruin
where the tender kiss
of yesterday leaves
new wounds to weep
dyeing tomorrow
in shades of
ponderous putrefaction
i lay splayed
from throat to groin
an offering fit
for festering famine