PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

His lust for her remained unconsummated
because she had not yet been dominated.
Her passions, always quickened by the night,
beguiled him.  At the dying of the light,
he set out, on foot, for the designated
place of their meeting---an abandoned tower,
ancient, foreboding, and almost an hour
away:  there, she had promised, the condition
was right to give, and take, the sought submission,
and satiate the darkest of desires
(whetted, when he slept daily, by wild dreams).
Arriving, his intentions were confounded
immediately as he was surrounded
by her, with several friends like her:  vampires.
They did not pause to listen to him plead:
he hardly had enough time for a scream
before they fell upon him.  As he bled
into their gaping, fang-lined mouths, and fed
their emptiness, her laughter's shrill derision
rang in his ears.  Wholly amused, she cast her
contempt upon this self-styled "Lord and Master,"
who lay now as a heap of flesh sucked dry----
not very masterful at all, despite
the collar and the whip hid in his suit's
deep pockets, and those well-shined, high jackboots
(that she must kiss . . . so he thought).  Appetite
sated, they stood about and watched him die;
his limbs jerked just once more, and then grew slack.
And they ensured that he would not come back
as one of them, for they had all agreed
he was not worthy to be raised unDead.
"For even we have standards, here," she said.
Among them, you might say, he came apart;
and to some hungry cats, they tossed his heart.
And just before the dawn's first glow, they fled.