The simple things...

"The razor is so sharp in his hand. Twinkling in the harsh lights of the bathroom mirror. How often had I shaved that handsome face, cleaned every curve of his lithe body? More times than even in my long life I could ever hope to forget. I want to intercede as the blade is wickedly coarse in his grasp. I fear the steadiness of his hands. He's never known how beguiling he is to me, or rather how much I'm entirely enraptured by him as a whole. Belatedly I accept that the blade isn't the most deadliest thing that has pressed to hollows of his neck. I've nuzzled it nearly enough to know the soft plains by heart. Broke with my fangs it's taunt mysteries. Love is the simple things."