I see him standing; he's so very far away. But his beauty still reaches out to me, caressing the very skin of my cheek. My breath left me at the sight of him and such fair, pale skin. His hair is unique, a wonderful mess of deep chocolate tresses with two long strands that frame his too perfect face. His bangs obscure his eyes from me at first, casting a soft shadow over them in the way the dim light of the moon hit him. His lips were twisted into a charming smirk... Beautiful.
My heart fluttered. I watched him from afar, frozen on the spot. He was looking toward me. An angel of darkness, staring toward me, smirking at me... silently beckoning me to approach him. My feet obeyed the order though something else within me told me to turn and run. I couldn't listen to that small plea in my mind. It was pushed aside, tossed to the curb like a piece of garbage. I was in a spell now.. under his spell.
His touch was like ice, but even when it sent chills down my spine, it also sent a feeling of ecstacy through me. I shuddered, my eyes falling to a close as his fingers brushed down the side of my face from temple to jawline. I felt his other hand at my waist, limp, his touch feather-light. It was tantalizing in the way he touched me, the way I could feel his eyes upon me, searching my face and body. He was sizing me up..
"Relax," came the sweet, velvet voice of the male, his lips brushing against my ear. Beneath the soft voice was a faint German accent. It was beautiful. At his command, I let my body slump a little, forcing myself to relax. Why I had been so tense was beyond me, but the voice was screaming at me again, telling me to push away and run. But his touch had me frozen and his breath fanning against the side of my face only made me want to stay instead.
"I'll take care of you..."
There it was. The sweet voice of his again. It was beautiful, charming. I found myself craving this stranger I didn't even know the name of. I wanted to run my fingers down his entire body, memorize him beneath my touch, kiss his cold lips..
My eyes slowly fluttered open to meet a two pools of a shocking bright emerald; his eyes. Such beautiful eyes. They stood out so wonderfully against his pale skin and the dark hair that fell around his perfect face. I released a soft gasp, my eyes widening a fraction. I was lost in his eyes at that moment, and that had been made obvious to me when I suddenly realized he was holding me against him. I could feel his body against mine. Every muscle was defined, but he wasn't too buff. With my hands raised, I pressed them to his chest and I felt the muscles of his pectorals; they were like stone against my hands. Unable to help myself, my hands trailed between our bodies and I took the time to take in the detail of his body underneath the silk, black shirt he wore. He had the six pack of abs, each one carved beautifully and perfectly into his skin. My body shuddered unintentionally again..
He seemed to find amusement in the way I was so entranced. I kept running my fingers along his chest, his sides, and down his arms. He loved the way I stared up at his bright eyes and the way my breathing would tremble when I exhaled. His hands slowly moved along my sides, moving from ribs to hips and to my back where he pressed me more firmly to his body. A gasp erupted from me again and I made to speak, but I was swiftly silenced by his lips.
His kiss sent another wave of ecstacy over me. I groaned against his lips, my hands raising to cup his face. Like his lips, his pale skin was cold like death. I knew I shouldn't be here with him. I knew he wasn't what I was. He was something different. He was a predator of the night and I had been chosen as his prey. Yet... I couldn't draw away. He had me in his grasp. I was the unfortunate little butterfly that got caught in the spider's web.
My back pressed to the wall behind me, his body still against me, pinning me down easily. I felt his leg move between mine, his knee pressing to the wall to make sure there was no chance for me to escape without tripping all over him. His hands were at my waist again, grasping my hips slightly and pressing them to his. I gasped against his lips, surprise evident. Just what in the world were his intentions? Was I a meal or a plaything?
I felt his tongue run along my bottom lip and my body froze. His teases had me under his spell. So this was the way of the vampire... the way they easily caught their prey. My body pressed completely to the wall behind me as he pulled back. My eyes, which had been closed before, fluttered open partially and I stared up at him through lidded eyes. He was staring back at me, deliberately chuckling at the look I seemed to have on my face. I was dazed... entranced. He could take me right there if he was that much of a pig.
But he wasn't. It was then that I noticed the type of lust in his eyes. It was his bloodlust. His bright green irises were lined with a crimson red. He lusted for my blood and nothing more. I felt him lean in and only moments later did I feel his cold breath and lips against my neck, kissing in various places. I closed my eyes, a look of some strange sort of obscene pleasure washing over me. I never knew a vampire could affect me in such a way just by kissing me.
Yet even as I was engulfed in a world of pleasure, terror was pricking me as well, trying to pull me back to my senses. I found myself trembling beneath him again, my breath leaving me in rapid, shaky breaths. It caused the male to glance up at me and smile softly. He brought his lips to my ear again and whispered, "It's okay... It'll be over soon."
I must've given in for without even realizing it I relaxed again and my breathing returned to normal. I closed my eyes as his lips returned to my neck, kissing, nipping, sucking upon the flesh of my throat teasingly. However, it wasn't very long at all before I felt his fangs penetrate my throat deeply. I gasped loudly and that gasp was followed by a small whimper of pain. But the vampire was merciless when he drank my blood. My body was gradually growing weak and limp. His arms had to curl around my waist and one of his hands had to hold the back of my neck while he continued to drink me dry.
My mind was in a haze by the time he drew back and my world was growing dark. I could still see his face, but it was oh so blurry. Still... before death took me.. I had to learn his name. That would satisfy me enough.
"Your name..." I managed to whisper. It was all I could manage before my voice failed me.
Through the blurryness I could see his bloodied lips curl into a smile.
As my world grew dark I heard his name echo through my head in that soft, velvet voice of his.
Who lives in a pineapple in the refrigerator? No one, because the fruit is a solid, juicy snack. You do not live in a fruit, and if you could, I would not allow it.
Think what you will. You are forbidden from any fruit, or vegetable, for that matter, within the realm on my brunch. It is a realm no mortal may penetrate, and no bubble wrap may protect. And your comb-over will not subdue me.
just like you and me are two funny beings dying in their own funny ways with funny liquids seeping from their wounds [i know mine is a combination of vodka and olive oil and sanguine tears, i don't know about yours] and other funny things on their minds.
like funny stories. you know i always loved your funny stories.
like the one where you were talking about your mom and i being your slaves and we started laughing and i said "hahahahaha fuck you." you laughed your hardest then.
but that was you in the time that was 'then', and i'm afraid that this is 'now' and i can't seem to get over how we seemingly skipped the in between. the in between where you were supposed to hold me close and really savor the blood in your mouth. my blood. god, did you ever? because i'm drowning in the taste of yours as we speak.
My life long best friend lost her father yesterday to an Aneurism. It was quick, thankfully, but no less painful for her family who is like my second family. My heart breaks with theirs. I shall be sharing this poem with her shortly- I hope it says what it can Thank you.
I feel the trapped wings Beneath my scarred skin And I know the song you wanna sing But my patience is wearing thin I seen this coming I shoulda hit the ground running But here I stay, on my own two feet It is time for your ignorance to hit the street.
Jacob this isnt about you just wanted to put that out there.
SO I haven't wrote a poem in a long time. I .... I've been going through a lot. Speed bumps in life. They seem more like road kill rotting in my path. I cut again by the way. After so long.... First over my heart. Then under the word LOVE. I know I can stop. I have no choice.
You called it a whole other world. "It's a fortress," you tell me when we sit at the bay window, thrown wide open. The spider webs would cut thousands of crystal strokes under my windowsill in between rainy seasons, and each morning we'd sit out in the yard and I'd watch you sketch the dewdrops ebbed in the tiny satin tightropes. Your father hated them, but you wouldn't let him touch them. "Everything so geometric and miniature. It's amazing." The structure of my bones became geometric and miniature, too, so you could trace every line sitting in that window, with the curtains billowing like butterfly wings. But I never noticed that you never noticed the butterflies.
You called me your little fairy girl. "Little fairy girl," you tell me in the kitchen. My mother has just wed your father and I already like you. "Little fairy girl, so small and fragile." Couldn't you see it, Jeremy? Couldn't you see how I followed you like a moth would to flame? You plucked me from the vine and kept me in a vase of water. Add one to your collection. You collected small things, and I was stupid enough to shrink myself so I could fit.
You called it our secret. You told me that stepbrothers and sisters weren't supposed to do this. "I can't," you say as I fold under the comforter. Your finger is on my wrist and you run the pad of thumb over the jutting bone. "We can't. You know that." Then you called me by that damning nickname, and I thought it was affection. You didn't have to reject me, Jeremy, but you did. I didn't have to be sick, but I was.
You called me out on it. You pointed to the spaces between my thighs, at the sun filtering through like the slats of blinds. At the vertebrae stacked up my spine like rosary beads. "I'm okay," I say. I tell your father and my mother the same thing later. And even though you weren't asking if I was okay or not, you accepted it. They both did. And you, Jeremy. But that. That really was okay. I'd already accepted that you just didn't care enough.
You called me a liar. You found the pills making a medicated knot in the pipes and you screamed over and over again, asking why, why do I do this. "I did it for you," I whisper. Everything was always for you, Jeremy. Everything. I just wanted to be the little fairy girl, with the crystal wings and the dress made of spider silk. I wanted to be small enough to be in your pocket and learn your secrets. I'd been dying to be thin, but nobody had the heart to tell me that now I was just dying.
You called me a freak. There were no secrets left for you to tell when you finally told me what you thought of me. I was the only skeleton in your closet. But your words were a guillotine blade on my throat and you just kept slicing. "You're sick," you spit like a curse. "You need help." And with each step I take toward you, you fall back, farther away. You were an ocean wave, Jeremy, and I was the shore. Until I was the spider, and you were your father, crushing me under your thumb.
You called your father. You sat out on the curb and lit a cigarette. You repeated all of my lies in a scream into your cell phone to him. And I sat up in window and just watched. "She's trying to kill herself," you yell, but only because you don't understand. The curtains were tossed in the breeze, like before; they weren't butterfly wings anymore. I wasn't a butterfly, all sinew and yarn like I was. I was still just a caterpillar, and they were the cocoon around me. I could never put enough between you and me to block out my lies, projected from your mouth across the whole neighborhood, though. You missed some. The biggest lies were the ones I told myself about you.
You called it a fortress. Everything so geometric and miniature. The summer after you went off to school and I came back, I ripped every spider web out from under the windowsill. I plucked the legs off of the tarantulas before your father could find his broom. But I let the butterflies live. Cocoons grew along the gutters and we all emerged together when you came home for Thanksgiving. Not like you'd ever notice, Jeremy. And not like I'd ever mind either way.