Two Vampires

These are the things we don't say.
The grand plans written on the soul.
Eyes linger on for stolen years,
Diamond-hard and black as coal.

Thread your fingers through my hair,
Wind the curls to ringlets,
Press my back against your breasts,
Catch a whisper of cold breath
On the nape of my neck.

Within the fortress of our closed eyes,
You and I alone exist.

There are no monsters that would cast us into the torrent of years

There is no path from which we were snatched,
No loss.

There is nothing to remember, nothing to see here.
There is no human residue between the boards,
no smell of fear.

There is no softening stinking flesh melting into the midden at high noon.
There are pomanders and tonics for when you tire too soon.

There is no sadistic command given to end youth.
When all is forgotten,
Fate transcends truth.

When dawn becalms the both of us,
We settle together like old bones.

Our bed becomes a monument to lust.
Violence wrote a tribute to your tenacity,
A tracery of forgotten runes.
The map of how you came to be.

You laugh when I exalt your sufferings,
The silver streaks across your hollow belly,
The amethyst starburst on your ribs and shoulder,

The wildness of your hair,
Bundled in a veil for years without a care.

You are cruel.
You are quick to make me your fool.
You said you'd die for me.

We will pretend your courage set you free,
And you came home to me.
And bind each other,
Thee to I and I to thee