Starved

Seen so many faces,

so many eyes,

and so many smiles.

But yours, honey,

yours seem to be carved in my mind,

replaying themselves between dreams.

And I wish, oh, I wish so bad

that you would smile more for me.

Fear and pain are tasty, but not yours, not yours.

However, blood's a different story,

yours seems to be the only one I would drink.

Helplessly lost in a frenzy of hunger,

yours, I would devour.