Alone
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 day,
And I feel my hands move and my heart beat.
I must have her sweet blood,
Oh, I can imagine it on my lips;
I stir within my coffin and open my eyes,
I breathe 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 the coffin lid.
Could this girl be the one,
My soul mate for eternity;
Standing there in the twilight I watch,
She carries red roses.
Stopping at a grave of many names,
And then I am there;
Startled she screams and turns to run,
But she is 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,
Oh sweet, the sweetness.
Her blood is like the richest of wines,
I carry her to my grave;
And place her gently in my own coffin,
This twisted nightmare I will not endure. . .
alone
_____________________________
May 17, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Alone
Copyright Protected, ID 05-674-914-17
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, 101 In A Row #2
sponsor, PD, Judged 2015
Sixth Place
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