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Basking in Her Rebirth

The Diary of an 18th Century Vampiric Aristocrat

By Cici EvanPublished 5 years ago • 2 min read
Basking in Her Rebirth
Photo by Loren Cutler on Unsplash

The night creatures howl for they long to have her

For her red stained lips and her lustful hips

As she tempts her men with the gift of lead on

But I am the only one whose felt her desire

I watch her lay and count her breaths

And I comb her hair in the place she rests

Alone and free to scour her lair and Iris draws her curtains and whispers

That I am still her best and all I do she counts as fair

Patriarchal footsteps intense and muffled climb their way into my world

A fiend I am, I might as well be muzzled

The sight they could see, their daughter with me

A creature with bloodlust is more than just a curse

(I pressed close to her ear)

"A promised secret cannot be broken like the night when I first found you in distress, a mess, but you are now my mistress... Do you wish to be mine for an eternity you can melt in?"

With a graceful plunge and knowing hands I traced my prize with a lick of sin

Torn underwear and legs agleam

She opens her den wide just for me

And with my fangs fully out she cannot escape mortal demise

But in return, I birthed her right between her thighs

Her appearance is changed, her mindset deranged

It only excites me to see her unchained

For her to control and insert me herself is more than I asked of a lewd catholic girl

In spite of her father, its he I'd invite

To come one to come all, to watch on this night

To watch his daughter tempt me with her eyes

Makes it more wrong that it can ever be right

Something about the arch in her back and her hands in my hair

Tells me she's near release

She once told me not so long ago it seems

"Even if I scream and when I bleed,

Do not stop for me, you are all I need,

A life without you, if alone I must lie,

I would give up so as just to die."

She moves herself forward to me, so close and raised for deeper attraction,

I mustn't upset, must continue to venture to help her forget

With dark nails ripping straight through the flesh of my back,

With my mouth at her throat, her bedroom door was a crack...

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Cici Evan

For me, my gift to use words in ways in which they were intended, to build cerebral watercolor pictures, induce catharsis, etc, is a great honor. I am so elated and giddy with finding a place like Vocal to connect with you all.

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    Written by Cici Evan