Such a Strange Word

The strobe lights flash and dance

In a flurry of gold, red, purple

Humans move wildly, swaying like sickly swans

Bodies glistening with diamond sweat.

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The hunter stays in a corner, black eyes

Haunting the floor with intent

He sniffs the air and his breath catches at the heady scent

Rabbit pulses are racing, the blood hot in the artwork of veins

The wolf growls and moves in for the kill.

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Porcelain skin, fiery eyes

Hot skin flushed with life

He charms, cajoles her, leads her into the dark

Her voice—so sweet—panics

Their so vulnerable when they do this

He hushes her, sways her till her back is against the wall

Hush, my little angel, you’ll not have to fight anymore

He silently places cool lips upon her beating throat

Whispers sweet nothing against her skin

He traces the veins with a finger

Along the jaw, the throat…

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His teeth mark upon her fair skin

Scarring it deep in her own hot blood, red and sweet:

His poison in her veins

His name upon a mortal’s skin

Lover? Such a strange word for prey.