Poetic Death

I cannot describe the full extent of your love and affection in this poem, but your sweet undying embraces help me imply the sweet flutter in my heart. When I see you sneak around in the shadows I sense the playful tone and defend myself but not to hunt for my prey but to toy with it.

I cannot describe death in this silence, but my screams that echo strangely make me shiver in fear almost as though I were being stabbed in the heart by a stray dagger or an aimed arrow. I feel as though my heart is about to stop as though a vile of poison has started coursing through my veins. When I look in the mirror you shatter the mirror and my heart.

It is not a matter of you are responsible just for a broken mirror but also for a shattered soul. The splintered pieces are irreplaceable, the tears only a place holder for all the pain. I am paralyzed. There is no room for pain in my heart because you have removed it and stored it in a collectors jar, still barely bleeding. All the love I have for anyone is in your possession.

The atheme you have chosen to sink into my slightly beating heart, is encrusted with the dried blood of others who have met the same ending. My fairytale story is completed with an adapted ending. Is this how I am to meet my doom?

To have a mere double edged knife being driven into my frail heart is not acceptable. Do I rebel and possibly force you to your own crucial demise? As I nonchalantly contemplate whether or not to move and risk immediate death or sit and prepare for my assured death.

Before I had any more time to think you sank your fangs into my delicate heart, the pain was an acute burning that was indescribable in more ways than one. I could hear the faint gulps of my blood ooze down your throat until there was nothing left. My sight becoming cloudy, my breathing becoming lackadaisical I was slowly loosing conscious.

When I awoke I could acknowledge everything I couldn't before. I sensed peoples' pain and fear, I coveted to feed on the weak and vulnerable. I only had one target: Y O U. I thirst to observe your feeble endeavor to battle my potency, the strength you unleashed upon yourself.

My fangs piecred your heart even while it was beating excitedly as though you were enlightened of my plan before I had reached your awaiting body. My enemy struggled against my intensified grip while his blood streamed from the cavernous hole I bit your heart.

Tell me, does you feel good knowing you were defeated knowing you were on top for as long as anyone was afraid? I was the only enemy you were truly afraid of. You watched your reflection in my red eyes, as you went limp and met your own fate never returning to taunt me.

The stanzas in this poetic horror story are many but the stories of pain are more than plenty to fill these empty spaces. It would take an eternity to distribute the stories from the shadowy darkness they were seized into.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback