My neck, warm, pulsing blood. Obscenely regular without bruises. Pale skin empty like a blank slate. And I never got to see his bruises. Bare my teeth at the air, click them together threateningly, think about the way his skin tastes when you pinch it between your teeth and roll it over with your tounge. It. is. not. gone. I remember the way I fit against your body like a puzzle peice. I remember the taste of your neck. I... ...Remember The Taste... ...Of Your Neck... and... again... *raises baton* I crave your touch like an addiction Stare at the walls and click my nails Bite my lip 'til it bleeds Warm liquid slides along my lip So palepink and unused Dribbles down my chin Drips onto my rapping nails And my nails stop clicking The only noise present In the flickering candelight Of my darkened room Is the lust seeping, seething Frothing, flowing from my pores Sliding across my skin in beads Like sweat, leaving shining patterns Reflecting the glow of the candlelight Tracing my skin like fingernails And without a word Without a sound I place my finger in my mouth And moments later My fingernails are clicking again