Long doth thou linger
In and out of the gardens
Do the saccharine sweet blooms
Tantalize thy senses
Make you yearn for what will never
Begone ye foul wretched cur
Thou appearance prescience
To Darkness befalling us all
Permeates the air
Back thou Devils Afterbirth
She sees him as Angel and Demon
Salvation no matter how you slice it
The cold-hearted bitch, inside
sees him as Angel
The sappy romantic,
Sees him as Devil
Her head says perfection
Her heart says kill him
He seizes her, squeezes her
Whispers I’ll put you to death
She shows him her jagged toothsome grin
Forked tongue undulating. Glistening
Body arching as they meet
Drains him as he jitters against her
Wrapped in her loving embrace
A gruff throat clearing startles me from my head and I break eye contact with my phone to meet the gaze of a suspiciously handsome man. Why suspicious you ask? Because he was the exact vision of the man I’d just had devoured in my freshly finished poem. And he was hardly dead.
I smiled and said hello, inviting him to join me. He nodded and sat close to my side, holding out a bright white rose before lifting my hand to his lips. Queerly old-fashioned and appealing, his lips lingered on my skin. I pull my hand gently away, and found only a momentary hesitation in releasing if.
“Have we met before? You seem oddly familiar to me. My name is…” His finger covers my mouth, silencing my words with a shake of his head. “No names?” He nods and I stand, leaving him to sit by himself. This is not a game I wished to play.
Exactly three steps. That’s how far away I got before I hit the grass face first, the air rushing out of my lungs as he lands hard on my back. My ribs ache from the pressure and he flips me over just as I hear them creak alarmingly.
The rest is lost in time. We stayed together for a century or so, travelled, ate exotically, sampling local fare whenever we could, animals when we couldn’t. Then one day, while visiting Paris, again, he vanished. It’s been 116 years, 6 months, 127 days, 13 hours and 11 min since I last saw his face. There have been others, over the years. We still see each other, on occasion, but there is never a word of his whereabouts.
Perhaps he is gone, or beheaded in some well somewhere. The Breathers have become very aware of our presence in the city, often minds set strictly on eliminating us.
We are not all the same. Somewhere, somehow, someday perhaps we will come to an agreement for the safety of we who do not feed on humans. I made the change decades ago. But until then, we move in the shadows, under cover of night, and out of sight of Breathers wherever possible.
Excuse me, it’s dinner time…..
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