Mortality corrodes me daily. I’m oxidizing, wrinkling, ageing. Yet if I’m made ever youthful, I could rule the night, even though my heart and soul are frigid.
Pamvira’s waiting, keen to gorge herself so we might be together, evermore, from dusk till dawn. She frequents the threshold of my abode till my will crumbles, that I might be reborn.
“Welcome, Love! Slake your thirst,” I tell her. “Nocturnal creature, traveller of my dreams, imbed your fangs, the otherworldly portals to a life undead. Imbibe two bloody streams.”
No more a sibling of the sun, I’m drained, pale, my transformation done.
Pamvira’s waiting, keen to gorge herself so we might be together, evermore, from dusk till dawn. She frequents the threshold of my abode till my will crumbles, that I might be reborn.
“Welcome, Love! Slake your thirst,” I tell her. “Nocturnal creature, traveller of my dreams, imbed your fangs, the otherworldly portals to a life undead. Imbibe two bloody streams.”
No more a sibling of the sun, I’m drained, pale, my transformation done.
