Creation

The staggering end is held in her eyes
And with it stretches a new beginning
Adorned in shadows and bloody kisses
The archway lights blink, Once, twice
As feather-fingers entwine with mine

Opaque, a sleek safeguard from the sun
Velveteen tresses murmur on my cheek
A raven’s plumage and a spider’s silk
Laced with the fragrance of an angel
Incongruous to a demon by design

She presses her wintry lips to my neck
And I nearly reach out to embrace her
My tongue flicks a nervous lick at sweat
An avid tattoo in my breast to remind me
Omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis

My fists clench as fear wreathes my veins
And I swallow a mouthful of raw anxiety
Desire's cohort beads between my thighs
As her lips whisper promises on my skin
But I am temporarily deaf to the divine

“Will it hurt?” I whisper, and she pauses
Her mouth hovering over my slick skin
She doesn’t draw back to see my face
Uncertain, enticed, frightened, excited
As she lays a cool finger along my jaw

Her breath is mild against my taut throat
Too cold to be human, too hot to be heartless
She encircles me in her arms where I submit
My heart beats once, a trice of culmination
As her fangs come closed on my mind: Yes

Pain, kneading my parathyroid to powder
And shattering my collarbone under claw
Tearing me apart to open up my chest and
Leave my organs vulnerable to humanity
Naked to the blistering air around myself

All I know is the surfeit confusion of black
Not crimson or white, nor a hellish inferno
Black, thick and heavy: an oil of devastation
Cancerous, fingering; thirsting for existence
Throbbing between the bones of my breast

Keening as my spine grows rigid yet weak
Clawing as I seek for eyes in fresh blindness
She is barely cool juxtaposed to this wildfire
The spikes under skin that can’t be pried out
Tears defile my cheeks once more: I’m dying

Oily blackness thins into a glossy unconscious
And I wordlessly thank the heavens for respite
Because indisputably none could survive agony
On her knees, retching, with sensory conceited
Infiltrated by nothing – but a thrilling perfume

It’s stronger than delirium and nymphomania
This newfound craving to overindulge in sin
It snatches me up in steeled corset trappings
And dislodges all the lust within to out-spill
I awaken to this the sharp scent of lifeblood

She has my evening dew ready by experience
A knowing curve of lips, a glint of orbs aware
I hold my breath and let my new eyes appraise
Her every line and curve accented, highlighted
Her open expression accentuated and becoming

She offers me her limb of eternity made flesh
So innocent and provocative that my lips part
My hand is bone white, an obscene perfection
I reach out eagerly to my immortal providence
Our fingers meet like Michelangelo’s Creation