Plump mouth, small hips, hair, breasts.
He dies ecstatic little deaths
and sighing puffs of labored breaths
won't bring him back to life.
Realize, blinking eyes
He scrubs his right hand till it shines,
but soft regret is no surprise
As he walks down the stairs.
Alone another sits
All made of ass and supple tits
Bones poking through her naughty bits
She cannot even stand.
He had screamed the first time
He heard sounds of attempts to climb
up flights of stairs while fully blind.
The first dream was headless.
She bled from her lean neck.
Like something he should resurrect
He had never been so select
As to image his ex's eyes.
The monster finally stilled,
He dialed her, panicked and unskilled
He cried when he found he'd not killed
The girl he had honored.
This new thing writhes and moans.
He presumes she's pained to her bones
She's made of parts of babes and crones.
He flinches far from her.
He shudders out a 'Why?'
She quiets, as if somehow shy
She makes a gesture that must lie.
Her hand's over her heart.
He looks at what he bode
He lies his hands around her throat
He'll fucking never blow his load
He vows, as her pain ends.