Poem: Relics of a Night Well Spent

Relics of a Night Well Spent

By Ghia Vitale
QuailBellMagazine.com

Editor's Note: This piece was first published by The Horror Zine and reprinted here with permission.

You’re just another severed head,
To place on the post of my bed--
A trophy, prize and ornament,
To signify a night well spent.

How we met, I don’t remember--
My brain was soaked in gin,
Alight with some lustful ember,
The revelries of sin.
I knew that I wanted a taste,
When I beheld your skin,
And it would be a crime to waste,
The most perfect satin.

Back to my abode, you were lured,
Where you’d moan and quaver,
Forgetting every tale you’ve heard,
Of nights growing graver.
Our bodies and tongues did enmesh,
A moment to savor,
But I exposed your concealed flesh,
To sample your flavor.

The relics of a night well spent,
And carnal affection,
Rendered you blind to the intent,
Behind my selection.
Hoping to fill that black chasm,
Of candid rejection,
You died by your last orgasm,
Without much objection.

Now, my home is fully-furnished,
With all of your bones, as I’ve wished.
The star-struck eyes lodged in your head,
Watch me eat my breakfast in bed.

#TheHorrorZine #Halloween #Cannibalism #Vore #BathSalts #Zombies #Vampires #Predators #Decapitation #Sexy
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