The Leech

The

Leech.

Blood letting

but ornamental

black horned devil

shiny black exterior

slick with tar

ridged

but with the smoothest of words

the slimy semantics

gasping

hair pulling

Kisses to neck

sucking

Breasts wet with sweat

From caressing to biting

From wanting to leeching

my Hirudotherapy necessity

You were a double standard

paradox,

all in black.

Your teeth latched

to my heart,

A contradiction

holding my throat,

‘I’m no Romeo or Prince Charming,

darling,

Just a black, empty soul.’

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You are an anxiety attack

Because I think about you and my blood turns to ice

and my first instinct

Is to curl into a ball and protect myself.

You are an anxiety attack.

My breaths come out in

short gasps

heart palpitations

I want to scratch you

out from the inside of my brain with fingernails filled with blood from scratching at the love bites you left on my neck.

You always had a way with words

But I wonder what you’d say if I told you,

you make me want to kill myself.