I am wasting;
Skin a dry cover of my suffering.
I need you mortally.
I need you near to me.
Pale of life,
Lingering here with hope.
Your throat gleams.
I see life pulse
And it drives me slowly mad.
My angel, my savior.
Foolishly unafraid and trusting.
I am ashamed.
I need you terribly;
Your kind feeds me,
Kindles the quickening I desperately need.
Angel of death, I could be.
Withholding the final draught
So difficult, incomplete.
Your throat gleams
With vulnerability.
I promise…
I won’t drink too deeply.
Copyright 2010 Kimberly Hillard
9/25/10
