The Lion and the Lamb

Her crimson lips, cold like pewter,
No longer scream
Slipped into terrified silence.
I grin,
Pleased to have muted her.
Sweet bitch.

Her shivering body sagging,
No longer fighting
Her skin paler in the waning light.
Raven hair tangled and matted
Over her frantic eyes.
Pleading... Searching...
Seeing nothing but cruel walls
Commanded by my fevered presence.

A despairing tear slides down
The cracked porcelain of her cheek.
She throws back her head with a savage howl.
A mere second and her body crumples,
Breathing jagged, spirit drained.
"Please..." she whispers, "Please..."

The throbbing and pulsing
of her bare throat
Is mouthwatering.
Scented, like the finest wine
My eyes widen
My teeth glisten.
I tense; a beast upon its prey
No longer playing
No longer a game

I lurch forward
Her blood runs gold.