My fingers trail along
another smooth, white throat,
exposed.
Steady pulse,
crimson streams
under the surface,
warm.
My lips nibble a path,
sending a shockwave
throughout her,
thirsty.
She doesn't refuse.
I take,
drinking in the taste of her,
turned.
She is now mine
and yet,
I want nothing to do with her.
Meaningless prey,
merely filling a thirst.
When will my life
be more than this?
~Drake