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I couldn’t resist re-publishing this one in the spirit of the season!
when loving the modern vampire
sex is not dead
for this heartless romantic
with a sullied reputation
this seersucker suit
wearing an armor of coldness
and absinthe eyes
directing a powerful undertow of passion
sucking
sucking you into a hazy mirror
mouthy talons drawing the blue elixir
from your wanton neck
right at that tender spot
absinthe love drugging your reason
releasing you from decision
delirious with being devoured
you whimper a sigh of relief
and you are weak in the knees
your weakness
feeds his strength
and this is the best kind of sex
for both of you
coldness can never love
but passion is your master
seduction of the forbidden and the sin-sual
your teacher
but the sin of loving rapture
the sacrifice
to the wormwood box
the sleepless hibernation
the capitulation
required for this kind of passion
is frowned upon
yet the peer pressure dies away when he calls you
with his commanding eyes and still lips
romance is not dead
when you can hear his voice
raping your mind
his exactness holds you
and makes your heart leap at the site of spires
and the thought of cold marble slabs
to be laid upon
they don’t understand
the seduction
the thrill
of collapsing in his grip
they just don’t understand the complexities
the concessions that need to be made
when loving
the modern vampire
Reading at Nola’s Monday night
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sex is not dead
for this heartless romantic
with a sullied reputation
this seersucker suit
wearing an armor of coldness
and belladonna eyes
directing a powerful undertow of passion
sucking
sucking you into a hazy mirror
mouthy talons drawing the blue elixir
from your wanton neck
right at that tender spot
absinthe love drugging your reason
releasing you from decision
delirious with being devoured
you whimper a sigh of relief
and you are weak in the knees
your weakness
feeds his strength
and this is the best kind of sex
for both of you
coldness can never love
but passion is your master
seduction of the forbidden and the sin-sual
your teacher
but the sin of loving rapture
the sacrifice
to the wormwood box
the sleepless hibernation
the capitulation
required for this kind of passion
is frowned upon
yet the peer pressure dies away when he calls you
with his commanding eyes and still lips
romance is not dead
when you can hear his voice
raping your mind
his exactness holds you
and makes your heart leap at the site of spires
and the thought of cold marble slabs
to be laid upon
they don’t understand
the seduction
the thrill
of collapsing in his grip
they just don’t understand the complexities
the concessions that need to be made
when loving
the modern vampire
Ruffle, courtesy of Jim Blake
