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Zywa Oct 15
The bat-faced yellow

queen of ****** pleasure:


her razor-sharp mouth.
Novel "Vreemde streken" ("Foreign places", 1985, Renate Dorrestein), chapter 5

Bardo Thodol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead), India, 8th century

Vampirism

Collection "Old sore"
Greyisntwell Sep 2020
She remains beautiful as I grow old
Her raven hair flown in and out of
The atmosphere if I wear to die
She would remain immortal.
She is time and space she is
Beauty in its finest form
And I love her in this
Prelude to tragedy.
The words breaking like
The silence, I've waited for
So long for HER to return
The sorrow feels so wrong
When her grimacing smile
Makes me feel so heart felt.
This tragedy is centuries old....
And her roses are all dead.....
The tales are all told...
And she will remain Immortal....
This one when I wrote it I was about 17? 18? This piece went through so many name changes.. Immortal, Ravenna, but Prelude to Tragedy just stuck with me better. I hope you like it.
Greyisntwell Sep 2020
Part I. Tragedy of the Heart

She's found in the gardens
outside of his castle of
sorrow & history of death.

With the Grimmore locked
in her arms. she had hoped
to end the centuries old curse
placed upon herself.

She swore to Hecate in fragments
of blood. For a chance for
something sought by every mortal,
Immortality.

From wishes to eternity, she
watches the ones she cares
for wither and are placed
6ft under the soft brown earth.

For her consequence her heart
breaks piece by piece as the
night fall, falls upon her.
Eternity of heart break
and hearts where meant to shatter.

Part II. Thirteenth Winter

A blanket of snow covered the land,
the ****** cried her tears to shed
her pains of the thirteenth winter.

The church is gone, no revelations
could help her feel safe again. The
sun is only a distant memory, that
the books told her of the past.

It's only darkness now and the stars
don't shine, the wolves are howling
and she is praying for an escape from
this frozen nightmare.

The Grimmore, on the ground she's reading
the spells out loud hoping to end the
thirteenth winter's reign. There is no more faith
as the spell fails, she's calling for The Fire.

The Fire abandons her and all
hope is lost. Abandon her hope because it
surely has abandoned her and she suffers
this as the winter reigns supreme.


III. Redemption

Cry out to Heavens so that The Fire can hear her.
Nothing will ever be the same as she slowly slips away
into the Hell that she made from the bargain with Hecate.

Erase this, erase everything go in time before immortality
seemed so sublime. Erase the blood she shed before
the reign of winter destroyed everything that she loved.

The world is being engulfed because of selfishness of
not wanting to face what she fears, Death.
The Grimmore
cannot save her now. She doesn’t remember the feeling
of the sun beating down on her face.

This is the end of her nightmare, so start dreaming of
a better. She will bleed for another away out of this nightmare.

Everything comes at a price, she takes the blade and pierces
heart. Her nightmare is over and redemption has been given.

She closes her eyes to rest and slips away into Summerland
as the snow covers her body. Death finally embraced her
with opening arms.

Eternity came and went, the curse has been ended.
This was one of the few poems I turned into a story. It's loosely inspired by Poe and Anne Rice.

— The End —