Vampire; Gothic Romance Poem - Verses - Resurrection by Blood, Mine.
Have you ever got lost in a dream, late at night...Something so sweet you never wanted to leave? How long can one remain lost and still be able to return?
Closer and closer it draws with every exchange.
When this started you were so far out of range.
With every encounter the link grows stronger.
It’s getting hard to have any distance any longer.
I called forth a spirit to me.
It’s grown. Mist taking form to see,
the tall man, shoulders so wide.
Panicked now, I want to hide.
Who thought it would really work?
I think I’m really going berserk.
What just last week I could only feel,
massive longing and ghostly appeal.
Now, it grows taking on shape to see
always there, lingering, watching me,
reaching out sometimes when my back is turned,
beckoning, calling. I know I’m going to get burned.
I’m just a little witch, you see?
Calling and so forth is beyond me.
Or so I thought. But, now it seems clear.
There’s more to this than I once feared.
Worse, I would do it again I must admit.
You really don’t know the half of it.
It all began with this house, deep in the south, languid and warm,
isolated, full of history, presence, and steeped in southern charm.
Moss hangs from the old Oak and Pecan trees,
scent of Magnolia and Jasmine upon the breeze.
Subtle, moist clay and Honeysuckle undertones mingle
in pale moonbeams and soft glowing starlight twinkles.
I bought this house a few months ago it seems.
Time has run together. It all kind of bleeds
one dreamy warm day into the next.
It was in the attic that I started this hex.
I really didn't mean to. I was just looking around.
Check out the house, see what was to be found.
Into the musky, dust rainbow enshrouded attic I wondered.
Found a chest of Civil War gowns needing to be laundered.
Yellowed with age, hoary with time,
the beauty of them shown sublime.
Underneath the gowns a far greater treasure hid,
a heavy old lock box with an ornately inscribed lid.
The inscription was foreign, but yet, so maddeningly familiar
making me think when open it would show something similar.
The old photo cradled within was the key.
That was what irreversibly captivated me.
Into this dream of a life it pulled me in.
It was where the madness did begin,
tucked inside a leather bound book.
And all it took was just one look.
I opened it so excited to behold
secrets lost in time, memories old.
It fell open in the dusty old room.
From then on my life you consumed.
In the photo, you were standing tall.
But it was not you that first did call.
It was the girl that drew my eye.
If in a mirror, she would not lie.
In the picture you stood to the right
of what could not be though in sight.
There I was staring right back at me,
a version of me that could not be.
The book was your journal. It led me to you
just as you had long ago planned for it to.
Years it spanned of a time long past.
Entranced, I read through it so fast.
At the end you had left instructions for
bringing you back, opening the gate.
By the time I had reached the end of the book,
deep inside me your words reached and took
hold of my soul, everything that I am,
like a drug that broke through a damn
of quiet, proper and self reserve
screaming inside raw and unnerved.
Somehow, I knew you as if you breathed.
As if always you had been with me it seemed.
It was just at dawn when I rose from your pages
determined to follow through on opening stages.
I lit 13 candles and sank down, you see,
exactly as your entries instructed me.
Sleepy, through the words onward I wrote
as you called for with the final pen strokes.
My own blood to compose a verse,
sacrifice given for good or for worse.
Each night after the ritual repeated
for as long as it took and was needed.
I never really thought this magic could exist.
I expected nothing the first time we did this.
Nothing I thought I got, as the first verse I finished with a scrawl.
Nothing really happened. No. It really was nothing much at all,
only a strong gust of wind that blew open the door.
Nature does it all the time. It scared me to the core.
I hopped up and shut the door, laughing at myself.
Too much time alone was affecting my mental health.
Weary, I ascended the stairs still giggling towards my room.
I saw what should have alerted me but did not spell out gloom.
I thought it was really cute, one of those freak things that happen all the time.
Through the open window, indigo blossoms had blown in to perfectly align
making a single, fragrance filled, blossom heart upon my bed.
I thought it was so much better than had it been done in red.
It was a very deep shade of the darkest purple hue.
I thought as I lay on it that it was a gift from you.
Of course, the logical part of my brain knew this was just a whimsical dream,
a flight of romantic fancy. I currently had too much idle time it would seem.
My imagination run amok deep in the southern heat.
Smiling it was that I quickly drifted off to sleep.
In dreams you came to me that night for the first time.
I saw what I had read and more in my tecni-color mind.
As the dreams progressed, over time, you took me through our old life together.
You said we were always destined to be together, over and over… Forever.
In our old life you saw death coming to us both due to the war.
On our impending graves it was most solemnly that you swore
to reunite us once again further down the river time.
In the dream I kept insisting, “That life was not mine.”
You just smiled and stroked my cheek saying, “There, there.”
Your green eyes mesmerized me. It was that soulful stare.
You said, “it will come to you, bit by bit with every rhyme.
It’s in your blood and it will come back to you in time.
Each time you perform the ritual I will get stronger.
I can only grow as you go on, as the verse gets longer.
Your blood will be the conduit, you see.
It’s how you will open the gate for me.
It’s why you really should run. Flee.
If you let it, magic will take all of thee.
The more blood that you freely give,
the stronger your desire for me to live.
You should run as far away as you can get.
But you won’t. You never have left me yet.
In all the lifetimes gone mad,
if I find you in good or bad,
you always bring me back. You open up the gate.
You never at first remember what came before.
My dear, our history goes back for quiet a trek.
The photo you found was just the last time we met.
When you open the door this time it will be thirteen.
You never know. No way you can know how it’s been.”
So lost, so soulful, so full of longing and despair he appeared.
From him came an agonizing pain I could actually hear,
layered under the pleasing tones
screaming, yearning, so very alone.
“Five times you died before the ritual was complete
giving too much blood before magic reached its peak.
Into the ether, I returned but a ghost lost on the river time
where my soul resided until anew you called to me in rhyme.
Twice you died in a year of my return trying to bear my son.
Five times by war it was I who left you and was undone.
The first time that we ever were to live it was together.
That was the time that we swore our love to be forever.
In a dark cave covered in our blood you did the dance,
around and around the fire dancing in a kind of trance.
Beseeching the Goddess with what brings her gifts.
Blood is what covers all life when born, and it fits.
Without blood we would all be but cold and dead.
That is why your gift each time must be freshly bled.
When the earth was still young you stumbled upon the magic.
We thought lives without each other to be the pentacle of tragic.
In the rush of youth we swore never would we be one without the other.
Together for all time. We are cursed eternally. Destined forever to be lovers.
As youth often is, we were foolish. We did not foresee.
Each lifetime together has to one day cease to be.
Each lifetime ends in pain as one is torn asunder.
The other left broken, wanting to go on no longer.
This is the curse of our love, to repeat throughout the ages.
You could stop it now. Put an end to the opening stages.
Cease to give your life in rhyme upon the page.
Resist the urges. Turn back. Become enraged!
I don’t think I can bear you ripped from me by death yet again.
It is always so, destined to be eternally, until the cycle’s end.
Think about what I have said, for I know this can only end in pain.
The longer you wait the harder it gets. A blissful madness will reign.
I have seen this before, my foolish eternal bride.
You will embrace that from which you should hide.
You don’t remember me yet and so could get away without cost.
Curiosity and a romantic nature will draw you. Reason will be lost.
When you awake, this dream will feel as if more real than the waking world you see.
Each day I will come a little closer. Each will get harder and harder for you to flee.
Stop this madness now, if you can, for I fear it is already too late.
Our dance toward death has begun anew. We can’t escape our fate”.
When I awoke the mundane demands of life could not hold my attention.
Your words lingered within my thoughts, every word. I had total retention.
Opening the window that morning, I could smell you upon the breeze,
feel your caress in the wind on my face, softly putting me at ease.
Breakfast, errands, here and there, rush about.
Somehow I felt you with me. There was no doubt.
“How silly and fantastical I’m turning out to be,”
inside my head I thought as I chided me.
“It can’t be more than a lingering, vivid dream.
Get a grip. Things just can’t be as they seem.
Focus and come back down to earth, stupid.
You’re thinking like a girl shot by cupid.
It was just a dream brought on by the power held within the book.
Add the late hour, that uncanny photograph, and it was just the hook.
Your mind went on walkabout with a vengeance last night, that’s all.
Now shake it off and get over it,” I thought. Yet still… your words called.
The day became a blur of what was seen by my eyes laid over what was underneath.
Visions from our dream kept continuing against my will into my thoughts to creep.
Your face always there hovering, shadowy and watching within my waking sight,
your expression giving way to whether you thought my actions wrong or right.
When finally home from the day, just as I thought I was really losing my mind,
I thought to soak in a bubble bath filled tub, relax and just try to unwind.
With a glass of wine, surrounded by bubbles, I tried so hard not to think.
Miraculously, it seemed to work. Into the most peaceful sleep did I sink.
Into the dream I fell as instantly as closing my eyes.
From within and all around a glowing mist did rise.
It took form. At once it grew tall, solid and strong.
Suddenly, there you were as if you had been all along.
Smiling, you looked and said, “Shh my dear, you need your sleep.
You will need all of your strength if your veins are for me to weep.”
You sat on the edge of the tub and stroked my hair with your hand
singing softly in a language so familiar. I could almost understand.
I could feel the soothing baritone of your voice deep within my chest,
the vibrations of your lyrics somehow enhancing the benefits of rest.
The very sounds seeping through the bubbles and under my skin,
melting into my soul, making less all the pain and fear held within.
Over time each night, as similar events did repeat,
I remarked how you were with me, even out of sleep.
Not vivid as if real, totally there, like in the dreams.
Unseen, yet real nonetheless, crazy as that seems.
I was beginning to remember bits and pieces of our lives before in blinding flashes.
At times they were so powerful, I could see nothing but their bright colored gashes
upon my mind’s eye blocking out all other senses making me dream while awake,
with no warning rushing over all, no matter what else at the time was at stake.
Once, I was driving when the memories came.
That was when I knew this was truly not a game.
I couldn't move. I was frozen by the horror that assaulted my mind’s eye.
You reached through the veil between our worlds and saw I did not die.
It was your, by then, gelatinous essence that turned the wheel and hit the brake.
When the vision left me, I sat in the car freaking out, so swiftly becoming irate.
“What the hell is wrong with me? I must be losing my mind.
Have I really gone so far past the edge as to be totally blind?
Can’t you see, you stupid girl, you have really taken this way too far.
Letting some mind game damn near kill you in your very own car.
Well, this ends here and now. You know this just can’t be real.
Listen up and make up your mind to it because this is the deal.
You used to be so rational, logical, and focused on what mattered,
but since you found that damn book, your madder than a hatter.
Sensing things that can’t exist and all those crazy dreams,
Get a hold of yourself right now! Nothing is as it seems.”
I tried to stop this maddening thing we have as soon as I made it home.
Determined not to become a raving lunatic, insanity my house to roam,
I ran to my room, grabbed up the book, got a lighter, down the stairs flew
racing full speed for the gasoline in the garage. Still, deep inside I knew.
“If I burn that damnable book containing all of your words and in blood my own,
the cycle will be broken, the link no longer viable. The magic would be gone.
Will it? How do you know?” I thought, “How can you be sure?
Can you really afford to let instinct alone dictate your cure?”
With tools in hand to battle for what, if anything, was left of my mind,
inside, I warred within my heart for I could not bear to leave you behind,
to destroy the growing link that was bringing you back.
The fact I believed showed how my madness was intact.
Outside in the fading evening light I knelt with lighter in hand.
“You must destroy it completely,” my logical side made demand.
“Where are you dammit!” I screamed, “You’re always here.
Why now, when I need you most, do you chose to disappear?”
I fell back on the tall, damp grass clutching the book to my chest.
I held the lighter yet, heavy as an anvil, eager to aid in my request,
to burn the obsession of you from my mind as it’s flames eat the pages,
to erase the threat of madness by consuming what my mind engages.
As I lay there desperate for some semblance of normalcy, it was ironically the book that soothed me
feeling upon my chest as a warm blanket wanting nothing more than to keep me safe for all eternity.
Tears flowed down my face to mix with the now steadily falling rain.
“It doesn't matter,” I thought, “with enough gas it will burn just the same.
I have to do this. None of this can really be happening. Just stick to the facts.
Men don’t just come back from the dead. Try to keep your mind on track.
Stick to reality,” I tried to tell myself. “Reality,” my mind screamed back “is that you did not stop the car.
You did not steer to safety. You are not imagining what can’t exist.” My thoughts, how they sparred.
Drained, I sat up with head hung in the rain and rubbed my eyes trying to get my head to clear.
Knowing you were not there did not stop me from saying aloud. “I can’t even feel you near.
For the very first time since all this craziness started, where did you get off to?”
I decided I would do it just once more. This time it was I that would say a thing or two.
Deeply, I sighed, as I remember you told me to run from the start.
Damn it, why is it I can never listen to my head but only my heart?
Am I really going mad, teetering on the edge? Do I want to go on if I am? Can I stave off calamity?
Each second I was torn between the joy of us and the idea that we were but merely my own insanity.
I trod, dripping into the house, up the stairs
to the dusty attic, what a dramatic flare.
Let’s end this dance where it began.
Let's do our ritual but once again.
And so I started what was to be my final verse.
The razor blade weighed a hundred pounds as I make the first shallow cut cry red.
Even my blood was sluggish, seemingly stalling, wanting to stay inside me instead
of raining down, filling the chalice, allowing me to pour out myself upon the page.
Tonight’s verse would be something new. Tonight was about confusion and rage.
Worry for my impending mental demise had been overtaken by a curious type of anger.
“What, I get mad, question your existence, and so you abandon me like I’m a stranger?
I have felt you with me every single second from day one.
Why did you save me? Then, you go turn tail and run.
I want you to live, but don’t you see that it might make me actually disappear?
If I am filled with the memories of our old lives, what of this me will still be here?
Not to mention the whole this thing just can’t be happening, on top of all that.
Damn you! Can’t you even begin to try to understand where my head is at?
But noooo you just have to take off and go away.
Fine. This one last time I’m going to have my say.
Don’t you see that doing this is hurting me?
Truly, I am not even sure what is reality.
This is all just so very insane. How can what I see and feel be real?
Is total destruction, an eradication of you, the way for me to heal?
What if you are real and I lose you forever due to my own fear?
Damn it all to hell, where are you now? Why is it you aren’t here?
Tonight it ends.
Before the moon descends
by dawn’s rays it will be decided.
Dragging it on will not be abided.
Tonight, I would get answers from all of this.
One way or another, be it hit or miss,
write more and more, go all night long
until you step through whole and strong.
But if it goes the other way,
know it’s the price I must pay
I can't stand this madness. It’s gone on too long.
If you think I can, you cannot be more wrong.
I don’t know who it is you think I am.
I am not the woman you think. Damn!
Maybe I was lifetimes ago
but now, it just isn't so.
Maybe it’s selfish of me.
With every returning “memory”
I am left irrevocably changed,
mixed up and slightly deranged.
The flashes come complete with all senses and feelings.
It’s as if I am living it and it’s often not appealing.
How am I to know that you are really, truly, real?
That me becoming some raving schizophrenic is not part of the deal?
I’m grateful you saved me
and pissed off you left me.
I am afraid of you being here.
That your leaving has hurt is all too clear.
What a crazy f_ _king paradox I am in.
If I believe in you, then I'm clinically insane.
If I don’t, then you are stuck and I'm to blame.
It’s like you were halfway here on this plane
then all of a sudden you just disappeared.
Now, it’s not just being crazy I fear.
On I went rambling in clumsy verse
from good to bad and bad to worse.
Determined I was at the start
not to leave another part of my heart,
but to tell you off good and proper,
not to pass out atop my own ink blotter.
End Part One
(c) 2-5-11 Vix a.k.a. Rhonda Enrayne
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