The light of the moon serves as source
For my once beating heart, now still
As I wander the lonely corridors of time
Eternal, to grip my breathless, lifeless chest
Each day’s a seductress, but surely my death
For the awaking moon is my life, my morning
To then search high and low for fulfillment
Only to be left with blood of life, not my own
Oh, the pain of the never aging flesh I retain
It serves as the captor, the origin of my demise
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Author:
Michael (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 1st, 2023 07:09
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: LIZ, Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments2
I will always love poems like this! And it feels like I've been talking about the moon all morning! Definitely full moon season! But THIS: "Eternal, to grip my breathless, lifeless chest-Each day’s a seductress, but surely my death" got my heart! Loved it! 🌙 🌚
Thank you so much! Coming from you, that really means a lot!
The lament of the vampire, the never ending curse is so poignantly described in your verse. Beautifully written dear friend!
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