A Cloud Like Hand
A cloud like hand
rolls across my cheek,
stealing a moment
as cold fingertips
sear down my back,
freezing the skin they touch,
bringing me away
from my bloodlust,
captivating my curiosity.
Alabaster screens
shift under the moon
hiding the stars
as shadows dance
in the edge of the woods,
another icy caress
slides down my side,
so cold it warms me,
enough to spark the blood
seeping from
the hole in my chest,
cauterizing it
and as the flesh knits together
a face coalesces before me.
Grayish blue eyes
cut into me
and I spread the wound
so they may peer in.
After getting their fill
they move to my eyes
and I notice
the fine lines of her jaw
and her slightly auburn hair
moving around as if caught in a breeze,
but it’s the way
the light plays across
her meticulous fangs
that mesmerize me.
Curved,
almost daintily,
better to hold what she wants,
my flesh craves them to dig in,
and I feel
the fur on my back rise
as I lick my lips
in anticipation.
Her body
begins to take form
as if she stepped out
from behind a curtain
and she stretches
her delicately curved fingers….
preparing….
My mind skips,
freezing me in midstep
and as I shake off my sluggishness
there she is,
arms wrapped around me,
I can see the three quarter moon
reflected in her eyes
and as her fangs graze my neck
I know I’ve found sanctuary.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2009
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