Dear
stream-soaked
love
other,
I find your flames
to be hot
and purging.
Won’t you fan them
at me again?
Sink your fangs
into my flesh
and break
that barrier
I cling to so
desperately.
Break open the gate
and flood my respite
with turmoil.
I truly am
a coward,
and need release
from that
Sin.
so I may collapse
into myself once more.
That transformation is ever
beyond my grasp.
I’ll blame my mother for that one,
secrets of the family,
they say.
My fangs have yet to sharpen,
that blood has yet to cool.