The Consummate Lover

She sat on her throne abreast of My memory, not as My aristocratic subordinate, but as My vital accomplice.

Romance, sensuality, tenderness were of no significance to us, for we were assassins of the meek and mild.

Our daggers lay concealed, as we walked alongside the docile and domesticated with murderous intent.

We found satisfaction in eradication.

Eradication of surplus meat.

Eradication of rotting ideas.

Every meeting, our love was consummated in the blood of others, and it brought crooked, cruel smiles to our feral faces.