I.
It began with touch,
warm and open.
Dusting each other with our electric cells,
pressed in places naked to the air—
our temperature making.

II.
His words trickled drunken down me,
sweet poison meant,
working through my nervous system
in ways both calming and shocking.
I’d twitch for days after an encounter with him—
alive with excitement and raw enthusiasm.

III.
He had teeth. Fangs.
By the time I noticed,
I was already palm-heavy in his hand,
mind trained on heaven.
He’d bite, and I’d shiver
from his incision, begging more.

© 2025 Bat / Moonlight Spiritus. All Rights Reserved.