The wind weaves
Through the meadow grass
Like fingers through
Strands of hair,
The palms of my hands
Moist in the chill air
My breath near your ear,
The nip of love bites
Always leading to
Blood lust,
My lips brushing
Your neck
Always with the deeper
Hunger for more,
Always struggling on
With the eternal debate
How deep to sink my teeth,
To satisfy this that rises
Up inside of me,
Not done until buried deep
This flesh that seeks
A moist sheath,
To draw in and out
Each blow matched by
The blow of breath
And the moan of this meadow
Wind as it stirs,
This vampire love
Leaving me to wonder
How deep to feed
To sedate this insatiable hunger
My lips pressed against soft flesh
And with infinite impatience
Seeking solace in twin peaks
I can easily reach,
How deep do I plunge
And will it ever be enough?
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