I prefer the night
need my face inside it
the vampire is protective
of her loves
this is her crisis
losing hold of my reality
I’m a whispered
star death without end
day makes no sense to me
time without air
without
smoke to
hold
to struggle between
islands of thought
where I could be free
& spirited & sure
I fill with
exhaustion of
circumstance
too lost
against
again
the ritual
embarrassment
and cold
gold streaming
into a treeless
expanse
the air worries
the fascia of a vampire
who does not
go missing
hovering between
bone
it poured out of me
like bloodlust,
like hunger
and the grave
vampires have memory in their voice
and red in every shade