Does the hissing make you shiver?
Do you feel it coiling up your spine?
Do the scales screech against the collagen?
Do your bones crumple between the sinew?
I’d like to believe that it was unfair to Eve
To be swallowed whole,
But the Adam in me clings
too tightly to the heartstring
to know what it’s like to crave.
How did my fingers not leak
In the brush of your tendrils?
How did I not feel the teeth
In your ringlets?
I made an addiction out of the tease.
A habit out of the almost.
My dear, I relish the secretion.
Feed to fulfill.
Hide in the crevices.
Never let me
Find out
How good I taste.
Drink every drop of the ichor.
Sip the nectar.
And never pollinate.
Let the flesh decay.
I promise not to notice
The discoloration.
Do not tell me until
The number of breaths
Left to breathe
Are in the ones.
Leave before the countdown.
Strut don’t slither away.
Feel the glow of
Having known
That you left it beating.
Trade yours for mine.
This is not a disease
of the heart.
My love, you drip
In neurotoxins.
–yours truly, The Host.

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