Watch For the Vultures!

It was her eyes that got me. A marvelous shade of wonderful, I swam through them, basking in the warmth of cliche sap. The ignorance was not blissful, rather eventful, a summer narrated through the rhythm of rain and Billy Joel songs at 3 AM. She started the fire and it burned, all consuming. It's odd how one becomes accustomed to the aroma of simmering flesh. To prying eyes, I was simply blushing--fools. She taught me regret, the true essence of pain. Every brush of her skin formed another ulcer within my throat. Blisters and sores festered where lips had once marked skin, but I continued to walk through the flames, their tongues ever worshipping. Clouds swam within her blue eyes, Billy's fingers dancing lightly over the piano keys. In her eyes I saw forever. I took comfort in the warmth of her skin. In my eyes she saw desperation. On my skin she preyed.