You made me feel.
You made me hope.
You made me smile.
You made me believe.

I became real.
I became blood.
I became flesh.
I became bone.

You amused me.
You charmed me.
You sought me.
You fetched me.

I went awake.
I went alive.
I got dressed.
I made my way.

You took my hands.
We stared in silence.
We had each other.
We longed for more.

The day went green.
We turned back home.
Twilight had come.
Daylight had gone.

We kissed in haste.
We could not breathe.
We were on the floor.
Drowned by the noise.

You crawled away.
You slipped in haste.
You braved the night.
You walked out the door.

There was a storm.
There was vagueness.
There was madness.
There was flatness.

There were thoughts.
There were doubts.
There were falls.
There were dives.

There were pictures.
There were scenes.
There were griefs.
There were nightmares.

There were fires.
There were quakes.
There were breaks.
There were tears.

Then I knew it.
You ran from me.
You shunned me.
You lied to me.

You drew a hole.
You scarred me.
You crushed me.
You destroyed me.

I ran away.
I hit a town.
I drank my blood.
I shrank my soul.

I slept for months.
Perhaps for years.
My head on my pillow.
My hair on my back.

I lost conscience.
I lost my soul.
My weird humanity,
My sensibility.

I went awake then.
My sight red, my blood cold.
My head throbbed, my neck burned.
My chest roared, my thirst raged.

My skin grew bold.
My veins turned white.
My nails swelled up.
I was immortal.

I traced the weather,
I sniffed the air.
I smelled human blood;
Borne by its desire.

I flew through the woods.
I floated through leaves.
I skipped the jungle.
I came across hunched windows.

I heard shrieks in satin.
I sipped her blood and meat.
She, by the cries of her man,
Begging me to free her.

I saw the terror in her eyes;
The tremor on her wet hair
The trembles in her voice.
Yet I drank still.

I watched sour breath come out;
Her lifelessness in my arms.
She, a woman of insult;
A saint of disgrace.

I saw her hold his *****;
My past lover, in my sight.
Gripping her dying life,
Her putrid last embers.

I saw last strings of breath
Tying her down, pulling her;
As she screamed and kicked
And I drank and licked.

Their love parting, their hearts paling
I found pleasure in killing;
I found laughter and sound.
What is but mirth in blood?

Their love turning into horror;
Gasping and yelling, eyes rolling
Pulling the last straw of lives
of those most ordinary.

Their love turning to fear of me,
I, The Queen of Revenge,
for my immortality,
for failing my youth.

Their love, turning so ungodly,
The only way is to please me,
A way that they can never see
A way that they think is lost.

Their love, turning to my hatred
for burning my charms,
for singing my songs,
in a note less tender.

Their love, turning to my revenge
for draining my soul,
driving me out of life—
turning me out of love.