I Hunger

Let me see you before me. 

Prostrate. 

Bow, touch the floor. 

Bleed from the holes in your eyes

Which, unworthy, gazed upon my soul. 

Hush, now, 

Tear not the stitches sewn into your lips, 

Say nothing you said before. 

My slave, you are

My food. 

Play nice with your toy whores now, 

While you still have your head,

For later this serpent hungers.

To your doom, I thee wed. 

© Brandy Owens 
If you like this, check out my short story, “Lover’s Inferno”, available here on Amazon.
Stay tuned. There’s more in the works, as long as the Muses and characters cooperate! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day or night, whenever you are. 

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