I go out looking for discomfort,
I hunt emotions
from a specific someone,
a weak creature who has fed me from her pain,
who showed me how satisfying it could be
to hurt her,
to slice her up
and drink her blood alive,
licking the last drop that escapes my lips;
not wanting to waste anything.
I can’t imagine how she would react
if she saw me walking with a bunch of breathing creatures,
laughing and talking,
like Life could be this enjoyable without her – which is true.
But I know what I would do if I saw her,
whether she was laughing or not,
I would have smiled and stared her down,
until I forced her to expose her cards,
her tortured soul.
and hunters learn to wait.