Your blood soaks into my skin,
as I bathe in what you were,
what a word that is,
were,
the past,
and not the present,
it was before I forced it out,
with a slash of my knife across your throat,
do you remember it all?
when you wriggled and you writhed,
when you screamed and you chocked,
as I held you down,
I remember your eyes pleading with me,
but it was all too late,
your life was almost over,
but my thirst,
would never be that way.
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