the vampyre: one

piercing your reservations.
this consecration of a passion.
ancient and perfect. life and death.
the breath of feral things.
your skin, the hot and taut
and salty sweetness gives way
to the ferrous taste of surrender,
slowly draining away from paling flesh
to feed my needs as I plant seeds
of a legend, a mythology of lovers
that stalk the hungry night, bright
with the radiance of your need
to be needed, bleeded and bled
and fed upon, to my sustenance and delight.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.