i see you as an x-ray, a cross-section;
layers of bones and flesh and skin wrapped up in wool and denim and draped in gold, dangling,
sparkling, warming in the sun.
we are all animals, and all may be sent to the slaughter,
though violence is not what fills my mind when i look at you,
only hunger.
forbidden fruit; your muscles marinate in your emotions, such complex tastes created by your brain.
i watch you laugh. your head tips back, your fragile throat exposed, your tissue skin ready to split and
spill if pierced.
i smile back, my teeth bared. if i sunk them into you now, your blood would fill my mouth; an iron
flood.
would you taste of the humour you feel?
i want to be civilised; to spear you with silverware and place you on china plates and golden platters,
the focus of a dinner party; each dish paired with wines.
i want you to become fine dining, to serve you in the way you deserve.
but when i look at you, the hunger burns. it eats me up too, raging and raw, and i have to force myself
not to attack, snarling and feral, biting and chewing until i’ve reached bone.
my control is made of iron, but iron can rust red.
in my mind it’s a sacred ritual.
before i bite i would give thanks, say grace, raise my bloody hands to the unseeing sky; let blood drip
through my teeth as i chant prayers.
you are my goddess, your body and blood my eucharist. you die for my sins.
and as i assimilate and digest you, remember that we will be together forever:
you reflected in my cells. it’s love, in a way;
a marriage made from the ruins of your flesh.
i dream of holding your heart in my hand, still beating,
your ruined chest a glistening trove of treasures for my use.
each one could make a meal, sustain me for a day; i will transform you into fuel,
but not before i’ve looked you in the eye,
and seen all that which you once felt for me, that ran right through the heart that i now hold;
become now nought but seasoning.