Mottled tattoo—-a taboo—-beckoning
her to return to—-sip the fine vintage
of his fourteen-year odd—-essence needing
but a single nip from her—-teeth carnage
blood-blood reopened—-her tongue bathing in
his dusk boy—-blood that sticky grin. The curve
of his cock above the sheet’s skin, boy sin
calling to her fingers. Who has the nerve
to go there when lust is neither legal
nor pure? Caught in—-that dim shadow she did
nothing but obey as her cooled flesh warmed
and she called him her—-cute anal angel
he was all—-that’s taboo—-what we forbid.
All that will leave us a monster transformed.