Poem: To Her Demise

vampiress_mileena_by_serial_killer666-dablm68

Today’s little piece sprang out of boredom, and so I asked myself: Why not write a short piece about Izobella’s demise and resurrection? And so here it is.

 

To Her Demise 

Razor peaks beetle above the entrance
To her memorial tomb where I wait
In patient darkness for the sound of her
Breath, for the sound of her feet sliding
Along polished marble flagstone.

Waiting under flickering torchlight,
Bottles of potent virgin’s blood, laced with sighs,
Ripens in the cold of her tomb, which seems now
An eerie extension of her immortal will.

Candlelight dances now on the frescoes
Of her past, colors now muted past care,
But the likeness bears testimony to
Her delicate pale shoulders, bosom, and
Those wonderously appealing lips.

Yet those those lips, those lips of my goddess is
What always brings me back!
Faded rose petals, petals hiding carnivorous
Vampiric fangs, which permit only a shallow kiss.

A drop of blood from those waiting bottles,
And at long last, I hear her tomb’s cap burst asunder;
I hear her wrappings sigh to the floor, and should
I turn, I would see my risen Izobella, body slack as
Death, steal up on me from the shadows themselves,
Long fingernails on my throat, tongue on my flesh,
Fangs piercing through to the blood that flows underneath.

 

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