PEOPLE OF THE BLOOD
Like all souls
we search for the essence.
We shop for blood.
Each morning
my eyelids are brushed clean
of purple crust.
Quivering fingertips cool my brow,
pleading for gossip of the night.
I have eaten, yes,
but not to the full.
There is scarcity on the land.
My skin, slightly torn, is stitched.
Black lashes filter out the dawn.
The sun rises.
Fallen angels flutter,
begging for
the riddle of our blood.
It's simple,
I die of fear
and thirst,
as others hide and stare.
All yearning ebbs and flows.
I sleep.
And then it's tomorrow.
That's the secret.
FOR HALLOWEEN, trick or treat?? Last week, me dipped in chocolate. This week, me as a VAMP...vampire....boooooo!!
This is my entry for this week's Poetry Potluck #8 . The theme is Halloween. Perfect! Please check in for some great poetry.
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