A collection of poems that probably are not considered poems, and drabbles of stories that could not exist for numerous reasons. ( Honestly this collection sucks. Like really, really bad. Continue if you dare, or just check out my new poetry collection coming soon. Thanks! -Ace*)

He craved warmth. Not just the warmth that came from bare skin against bare skin. He craved the warmth that came from the blood that pumped through his victim's veins. He was a murderer. He could not be loved.