Poison

She is poison. She is venom of the worst sort. I find myself sitting across from her anyway. Worse still, I find myself wanting her, her poison be damned! Wanting to roll the dice and taste her seduction without choking on the poison that always comes with it.

She is poison. She’s destroyed men I felt were much stronger than me. Still, I’m getting drawn into her eyes that study me, striping the clothes virtually off of my body, imagining all of the ways she will pull me in, desparate to wanting her touch.

She is poison, and I cannot help myself but to want a taste of it. I’ve always come to her rescue after she’s burned all the bridges down. I’ve always gave her the shoulder, the understanding, the loyalty. Before now, I avoided the poison that she is. But I have lived my life avoiding poisons of all sorts. I have driven down the road of the straight and narrow and still got rammed into. My life is currently a car wreck of metal and flesh and blood and bone. I hurt, I weep. And I am too tired to avoid a possible taste of poison now. From my current vantage point, dying from poison seemed a better fate than dying from what already ails me.

As soon as the door to her house closes, our clothes melt from our bodies. Our kisses are frantic things, our lips finding each other through the chaos of becoming naked, in becoming the animals we truly are, in blending into something that is not quite one thing but not quite separate things either.

Her hand finds me ready, her fingers lightly claw me, laced with poison. Her touch is like she has known the map of my body and its desires intimately. Her damned touch feels better than my body has ever known. Poison.

We lie there in our sweat and flesh and kiss passionately in the aftermath of our spent desire. My perpetual gloom is suddenly gone. Perhaps temporarily, perhaps for as long as I stay with her like this. Is this another of her traps? I suddenly care now, but I don’t think it is. She is poison, but then again so am I. Perhaps as long as we stay together, the rest of the world is safe. Perhaps her poison is tonic for the likes of me. Perhaps as long as we stay together, we will not poison everyone else. We are poison. It is best for all to just leave us be.