It’s that time of year again when the the portals that separate our world from the overworld are lowered and the ghouls, werewolves, vampires and the terrifying Dorocha walk among us. Beloved Succubus is my most popular poem at Authors Den. It’s not scary, just a simple love story about an undead girl seeking a willing, adventurous blood donor (must have good sense of humour) for fun, frienship and more.The audio track is not available here, the poem is meant to be performed as a dialogue for two voices, accompanied by the music of Camille Saint Saens’ Danse Macabre. Female voice is in italics.
Though I spend the long day seeking
in crowded streets where memories teem
she only comes while I am sleeping,
in the stillness of my dreams.
“Come to me my one true lover,
bravely walk beyond the dark divide;
take my cold hands or I must rest here,
There is no way back but by your side.”
At dawn the image stays; repeating
“Please my love, please do not desert me,
endless darkness fills my heart with fear.
But the shadows can never hurt me
if I could only feel you near.
Find me in this love — forsaken desert,
caught between the living and the lost,
kiss once more these cold pale lips, caress
cheeks death’s insubstantial hand has blessed
Hold me, warm me and reclaim me.”
I feel her here in children’s laughter,
soft wind; her kiss upon my cheek.
A movement at the edge of vision,
hint of perfume; her Mystique.
But she is gone, her light extinguished,
dead; without goodbye or parting kiss.
Fate has aborted all we wished for
and now she cries for my catharsis
Should I cling on or follow after.
Shadow words like sharp little knife cuts;
her message fading on silver screen;
“I need your love to quell my hunger,
sacrifice your blood for me.
Come warm me with your vital body,
let new life flow in these dry veins.
else reject me, cast off your ennui.
One tiny drop love, will sustain,
Life cannot end where love survives.”
Her photograph’s changing expression,
(foreknowledge clouds bright, laughing eyes.)
Brushes shifted on her dresser,
curtains moving without a breeze.
A spot of blood staining my pillow
trackmarks, bruising purple on my neck.
These dark ringed eyes say I must follow,
discover some way to bring her back.
Is love beyond death a transgression?
The months of yearning have fatigued me,
I grow more pale, my soul is weak.
I cannot turn from her completely
One embrace is all I seek.
In darkest hours she waxes stronger,
her compelling pleas never desist.
Every night she feeds my hunger,
The darkness calls, I cannot resist………
Instinct protests but will cannot resist.