I've hung the mistletoe.
My lady
grins in a way
that makes something hot
and electric
zip through
my cold, dead veins.
The tiny, white lights
I've strung around a tree
sparkle in the depths
of her wolf eyes.
A lone saxophone
sounds from the street corner.
Deep and slow,
"Baby, it's cold outside,"
but not in here,
in my home,
where the fire blazes
and my arms
wrap around
a living, breathing miracle.
Christmas is still weeks away,
and yet,
this gift
stands before me.
I unwrap my prize,
my treasure,
my wolf.
She doesn't move
until I am finished,
and all her silky skin
is exposed.
Slender arms
encircle my neck,
pull me down,
so our lips
are but inches away.
Though I thirst
for human blood,
burn with the desire
for the taste I've gone without
for too long now,
I can forget
for a night
if my love succumbs
to the promise of my mistletoe.
~Drake
My lady
grins in a way
that makes something hot
and electric
zip through
my cold, dead veins.
The tiny, white lights
I've strung around a tree
sparkle in the depths
of her wolf eyes.
A lone saxophone
sounds from the street corner.
Deep and slow,
"Baby, it's cold outside,"
but not in here,
in my home,
where the fire blazes
and my arms
wrap around
a living, breathing miracle.
Christmas is still weeks away,
and yet,
this gift
stands before me.
I unwrap my prize,
my treasure,
my wolf.
She doesn't move
until I am finished,
and all her silky skin
is exposed.
Slender arms
encircle my neck,
pull me down,
so our lips
are but inches away.
Though I thirst
for human blood,
burn with the desire
for the taste I've gone without
for too long now,
I can forget
for a night
if my love succumbs
to the promise of my mistletoe.
~Drake