Without a Dawn

We stand there for a while,
me, and my shining release.
With trembling grace I raise my hand,
and let liquid eyes catch the moon.
My fingertip, barely numb, twitches,
with an ache, a twinge, of burning curiosity.
I don't mean to hurt you,
I've only lost my heart within my soul.
I can feel my blood race through my veins,
pounding like the touch of a frantic lover;
feverish with anticipation.
Consumed by the night air, we are still,
intertwined as one, silent as a scream.
Angry thoughts consume me, and yet,
close to you they seem to melt away,
into a muted whisper.
As I raise my hand, I can feel it
spasm and grow impatient,
longing,
only to touch, to feel again.
I can feel your presence against my face,
trailing up my jaw, and winding along my cheek,
and laid to rest against my temple
Let this be brief. Let us be done with this, quickly,
snatched, and then left exposed to night's chill.
Rob me, and then leave me.
My heartbeat thuds in my ears, like drums of war,
filled with hatred and eagerness and bloodlust.
Carefully, and with relief, I shut my eyes,
and tilt my chin up, only to drink
the sweet necter of the moonlight
that haunts my conciousness like a painful scar.
With a smile, and another violent finger spasm,
the trigger is pulled.
My mind ends with a flash of dazzling scarlet,
a blaze of white-hot light, then fades away to nothingness,
to exist nevermore.