he woke at sun set
hunger filled his being
yet his still heart dreaded what was to come
hunting for fresh kill always sickened him
and yet he knew it must be so
darkness covered his soul his need
while he stacked he thought of the centuries
he had passed in loneliness and dispare
ever drench in blood and memories
To drink the blood of an innocent was repugnant
to his senses
but such must be or sicken and die
so many years had passed
yet he remembered her sweet alabaster face
his dead heart still hungered for her
the very memory of her scent filled his longing
left behind centuries ago out of pity
now he walked this darkness alone
until he would grow tired of life
1 comment:
You have worked through ideas here in a sustained and interesting way.
Take care
David
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