Twisted
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I am dead and lifeless,
Cold and of the departed;
Two hundred years of wandering the world,
Forlorn and forsaken.
I lay in a crypt waiting for awakening,
And I feel her passing;
She walks close to my resting place this night,
And I feel my hands move and my heart flutter.
I must have her sweet blood,
0h, I can imagine it on my lips;
I stir within my coffin and open my eyes,
I breath her dulcet scent.
My endless pain, existence a nightmare,
This eternal life lonely;
Full of agony, darkness and deep anguish,
Oh, I moan and push back my coffin lid.
Could this girl be the one,
My soul mate for eternity;
Standing there in the moonlight I watch,
She carries red roses.
Stopping by a grave of many names,
And then I am there;
I expect her to scream and try to run,
She would be no match for a vampire man.
Her beauty is surreal to me,
I embrace her in my arms;
And as I pierce her neck I hear her sigh,
So sweet her blood.
Ruby blood like the richest red wine,
I carry her to my coffin;
As I place her within she kisses me,
And whispers, "At last I will not be alone . . .
anymore."
_____________________
September 7, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Twisted
Copyright Protected, ID 16-826-326-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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