Everyone around
me has been
saved
but I'm
still
drowning.

I hear your voice carried upon the whispering winds. Surrounding me with secrets untold.
I see your face in the stars at night. Your eyes glittering down at me just before I drift off.
I feel your touch in the chill morning air,
And your smell in the morning dew that accompanies it.
The strawberries taste of you, their familiar sensation tingling my tongue.
Funny, how I sense you everywhere and yet
Not at all.

Honed fangs behind
sweet lips.  

Lips made to caress my
skin as they travel along
my throat.
So gentle he is,
For a monster

His tongue against my
jugular;
Heartbeats quicken.
Shallow breathing
as his dark eyes
bore into mine.

"Take me," I plea, "make me into you."

You are mine...
His voice is thick,
laced with seduction
but also some sort of
tenderness.

His movements
careful
slow
calculated.

He plants a
kiss on my neck,
fangs barely brushing.

*And I do not destroy that which is mine.

Nostalgic feeling;
Looking back on life through
Rose coloured glasses
To see sweet memories
That never were.

'Tis true
your love
is the
saddest form
of poetry.

I welcome
death like a
blanket of snow;

Cold at first,
But in the end bringing
forth new life to all
it touches.

Maybe tonight I'll fall
asleep holding my pillow
and not think of you
for once...

But then again,
You make for a wonderful
dream.