On midnight feet through streets we follow, flow
As wind or winged without pure heaven's light.
Warm prey and hunger we with glee shadow,
When human horror warns you take your flight.
Our bright black eyes and siren voices sing
And draw you down as still as carved statue.
Our hands and hearts do your destruction bring
While in your arms we gently, sweetly kiss you.
Soft lips cool linger on your throat; your sighs
Are golden mead to tease and please our ears.
Then pain sparks terror in your wide green eyes;
We are the sum of all your darkest fears.
Our kiss of death brings forth the drink of life:
We walk in beauty on the edge of a knife.
(I even went for the iambic pentameter, though it's highly imperfect. Elizabethan Sonnet)
1 comment:
That was full awesome!!! I like how love and death often go hand in hand.
Right on for the iambic pentameter, I didn't even try to keep to the meter with mine.
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