There she lies, still,
Pale is her face, lifeless,
Dead, she indeed is,
And I, the instrument.
All her memories,
Dreams, feelings, emotions,
Become a part of mine,
As does her blood.
Lust brought her to me,
An intense wish to be mine,
Desire, she could not resist,
Not unlike those before her.
But I loved her, so very much,
That I had to rid her of life
Just as all the others,
And many more, yet to come.
Immortal I am, but hollow,
No wishes, desires, none,
Guilt, overflows, yet no pain,
Lingering on, I bear the bane.
2 comments:
"Because people always kill the things they love" ~ Paulo Coelho.
Nicely put, when was this written?
@udita: this is the first of the dracula tilogy...has been in my head for long time, but just came out.
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