Dead.

The dark caress of cold hands,
slowly down his thighs,
he should have cried for help,
yet he was waiting for his prize

Never once did he flinch,
nor make an audible sound,
he let her hands move
down, down, down

He wasn't really scared,
nor did he have fright,
he was however,
drunk within her moonlight eyes

Never once before had he felt so alive,
fighting with death,
her eyes shot open, turned so bright
all hell, he could see,
was gone into the night