it makes her scream for pleasure,
cry in corners at her downfallen lust.
it's an obsession of blood
pumping through sore lips
bit to bleeding but beautiful in
the trees whisper as she stomps
in puddles, wanting touch
again, for the third time that night.
obsessed, her dreams are luscious,
full of candy lip gloss on
the bottle, seduction in tongue.
loud into still air, everyone ignores
her need. she wants flesh.
it's nicotine driving her adrenaline,
nicotine and lust, nicotine and want,
lust and want. she quit smoking.
he tells her. he won't touch
a girl who is addicted to the
way blood and flesh mingle on her