An ode to the fear of being predatory
Sometimes I'm scared of being the tiger in the jungle
or the wolf in sheep's clothing.
Through our interlinked arms, the teasing smiles,
Sometimes I'm scared of my subconscious
because maybe it's going to tear you apart.
No one likes the feeling of being preyed upon,
that intuitive shiver of being watched,
my lingering stares and lingering hands
cold hard evidence of my sin
The passage of sneaking into the pasture
Mingling amongst the sea of white
Only to find my claws sharpened,
disembodied, I watch myself follow you through
the labyrinth of vines and branches of treachery.
Enchanted, I'm swept towards you, carried by the tide of obsession —
the world flips.
I lose sight.
I blink to find
bloody sangria pooling from the slashes on your neck.
I look down, my hands stained by
those damned spots
