Let Us Prey

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Were she whole, were she real, were she not transcended onto some other bewitched, enigmatic plain, Melita would’ve been ashamed, humiliated, by her current antics. But the blight’s measures were too much, too much, too much, and instead of ridiculing herself for the eerie condemnation, for the beastly conjectures, she was triumphant, pulling apart wing and breast, chunks of raw, bleeding meat, a wicked, tarnished smile wrapped around her teeth. She longed for them to be fangs. She growled and ripped into the flesh, marrow, and tissue, a conquest worth savoring, raising her hackles again at the fellow beast – completely indistinct, both unrecognizable, gone and gone and gone again, nothing to be cherished or relished in those fine, fickle moments. But she didn’t want to remain there much longer, not when a threat still existed, not when she’d earned her well-fought prize. The youth sneered at him again, then placed the portions of her kill back into her mouth, some contortions left in her hands, bloodied and ruined and sanctified by naught – leaping, bounding, and hastening off from whence she’d come, intending to enjoy her meal in privacy. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe