By dented-sky


You come to my territory with a passion in your mind and under your robes, a weapon in your hand and a sorrow in your heart. I feel nothing and have not for several centuries, not even a crucifix as it burns the flesh in my palm. But if I am to sense anything, it will be your breath on my neck and your fist tugging my clothes away. I wait for your rush of fur against my bare skin and your snarl, a growl, a howl. Your teeth will sink into my shoulder and I will let out my breath and never inhale. Come here with your friar and your lonliness, Gabriel, come and end what none have touched since my mortality. Kill me again, and again, and again. Touch me, spread all five fingers of God's left hand and feel that cold unforgiving pulse. Take what belongs to you.

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