Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2009
In 4 sonnets, by Sara L. Russell
(aka Pinky Andrexa) 2/6/03

I

A vampire's spun of dust and frailty,
Condemned to shun the healing light of day;
No innocent first kiss for such as he,
No cross to keep his own demons away.

He's poised in shadow, by the lady's bed,
Fixated by her flawless, youthful skin,
Her fragile throat beneath her dreaming head,
Translucent, showing pale blue veins within.

"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair,
And on thy pale white *****, stoop to feed?
If thou wakest to find me sleeping there
Would there be retribution for my greed?"

She does not hear his whispered litany.
He stoops to feed, in silent ecstasy.


II

Her blood intoxicates him right away.
His head is reeling; he is feeling strange.
She's tasted claret earlier that day,
Surfiet of wine has caused her blood to change.

Inebriated now, he starts to yawn,
As gently, like a cradle, the room sways.
He's mindful he must not linger till dawn,
Yet down he lies and, dozing, there he stays.

Wild dreams of parties fill his sozzled mind:
Of sanguinary crimes, of flying free,
Of hanging upside down with his own kind,
In places that the sun will never see.

As if thrown from a lofty height, he lies.
Beside him, she has opened her blue eyes.


III

The lady does not turn her drowsy head
At first, but when she does, stifles a cry.
The ashen youth beside her appears dead,
With bloodied lips; until he seems to sigh,

Whereon his mouth curves into a half-smile,
His wanton eyebrows flicker as he dreams.
She settles down to watch him for a while,
How very dark and dangerous he seems!

"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair
And on thy handsome throat, alight to feed?
If thou wakest to find me lying there,
Wouldst thou be angry, or rejoice to bleed?"

Did I say that? She wonders, feeling odd,
She gives her new sharp canine teeth a ****.


IV

He wakes, looks up - and she is looking down.
Her wide blue eyes betray none of her fears.
He stares at her, his hand raised to his crown
(He's not had such a hangover for years).

Gaze locks to gaze; they cannot turn away,
He falls into her eyes, she into his,
Then there is nothing left to do or say
Until they have exchanged a tender kiss.

Now comes her father, thumping up the stairs,
The vampire turns, in dreamy half-surprise,
Lifting her up, and, overturning chairs,
Leaps to the window sill; fire in his eyes.

"You're mine now, little one"  She hears him say.
One more leap - and she's spirited away.
Sara L Russell
Written by
Sara L Russell
Please log in to view and add comments on poems