If My Venoms Work With Him

His nails shortened unlike me

His hands bear red moon scratches unlike me

He humps, coils around and dozes off under own warmth

I guess I am cold like a vampire

So he has been searching for my fangs

And I couldn’t tell him, they lie beneath me

Every time I held my front upright

Those fangs stink my back

 

His smile dwindles unlike me

His face is vacant unlike me

He pushes, drills down his head under the pillow

I guess I haven’t latched the door yet

So, he has been searching for a doorway

And I couldn’t tell him, they don’t exist

If I did, he shall conceal my shoes

so that I wouldn’t chase to him

Little does he know, I am used to bare feet!

 

 

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