He was sitting upon a pair of red lips when first she saw him.
So large and vibrant that they made him look, somehow,
strangely insignificant
although nothing could be further from the truth.

With gunshots ricocheting in her ears
she sashayed across the room toward him
and stopped. To stare.
So rude; and yet, so bewitching was the site, she stood transfixed.

For he had eyes of ice, red ice
that could pierce straight through your soul
and skin so pale, so translucent, that blue worms were visible
crawling just beneath the skin.

It was goulish… yet he was mesmerising.
Horrifying and yet wildly attractive.
She felt a burning desire to run her tongue around his lips.
Their eyes met; her heart beat wildly in it’s cage.
He rose, slowly stretched his wings and in an instant
was gone.

© Bea Pierce, 1997