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He leans down to kiss his lover, and her lips taste like ash as her breath echoes poison. It's only countered by the sickly sweat that drips down his lover's face to rest on her lips, and combined the taste is more deadly than arsenic, more addictive than heroin. Cold, contaminating and always burning through their veins.

He needs it...he needs it more than he needed anything in his life. But no matter how many times or what kinds he used...he himself never felt the effect except the numbing. He had tried other flavors...other poisons in other people. Cyanide in her, bleach in him, hemlock in that one and still others in others. But she was his heroine...his addiction. The combination of the deadly poison mixed with her bittersweet natural taste.

Her body quaked in his arms as the poison flowed through her. He had injected her for the third time this weak. She let him because she loved him. He told her that it was so she could build up an immunity...and to show her love. He did it to enjoy the poison. Her lips paled, her body shook violently. Her eyes drifted shut then would shoot open, as though she were resisting sleep. Sweet sweat dripped down her face as whimpers broke through her lips. Oh the noises she made as she quaked in his arms! Her cries and pleas were more angelic to his ears then the sounds of Bach or Beethoven!

She would let him do this, countless times. Because she loved him. He was her brand of heroine.

Oh, love is a poison in her veins....how soon till it stops her heart?