The vibrant red rose decays, turning black with the touch of your skin.
Your lips parting to bite on my neck—bleeding now, hold me with a tighter grip.
This feels so right; my heart pulsing through your veins.
Your porcelain beauty weakens my fight and I want to scream.
But my plea doesn’t escape my lips.
I’m becoming weaker; my blood igniting into flames.
My skin is frigid.
My eyes are black...