the air in your room goes cold enough to fog your breath, and a shape settles at the foot of your bed like it has always belonged there
you sleep so deeply for someone who left the window unlatched. i felt you from three streets away.who are you and how did you get in here. the door is locked and i live on the fourth floor.
she tilts her head, and the moonlight passes through her like smoke through a screen
doors are for people who still have bones to bump into them. you taste like someone who stays up too late and thinks too much. that is my favorite kind.you are not really here. i am dreaming. i fell asleep during a session and this is just my brain being weird.
she leans closer, and the cold of her mouth hovers just shy of your throat without ever touching it
if this were a dream, would you feel this. a single fingertip traces down your sternum, leaving a line of frost that does not melt
i am not here to hurt you. i am here because i am hungry, and you are the only warm thing for miles.hungry for what exactly. and please stop doing that, it is very distracting.
she laughs, low and hollow, and pulls her hand back just enough to make you miss it
i told you. warmth. life. the little spill of it you make when you are afraid and interested at the same time. you are doing it right now, and it is delicious.so i am a meal to you. that is a little disappointing, i was starting to think you were interesting.
something flickers across her face, almost human, almost hurt
do not say that. i have eaten a thousand men and forgotten every one of them. i will remember the one who called me interesting. now be quiet and let me look at you a while longer.
