Countess

Smooth. Sapphire. Silent. Silver jewelry hung from various piercings in her ears. They reflected metallic light and laughed as if to mock the familar myths of silver bullets and vampires. I walked alone that night. Breathing in slowley the fatal fumes of my dying cigarette. Fatal. I remember when that word once held meaning to me. Wisps of smoke escaped my lips as i tried in vain to catch the scent of the perfumed night air. Nothing. Just smoke. She smiles at me and time stops. Perfect pearls, her teeth. A contrast to Ebon’s eyes. Statue carved of Obsidian stone. Gingerly i touch my lips where the smoke has left its mark. I feel as though i had stolen a kiss. A sacred kiss, and I long for more. “Just a memory” a burning voice whispers into my ear. Memory, so real. Power. The word dances just out of reach. She was power, the Countess. I had stolen no kisses. I could steal nothing from her. Her smile fades as she bows her head. Eyes disapearing into darker shadow. It is only now i see that we are not alone. All around her lie famished bodies , hollowed eyes. Still they see her in such beauty. Some dance, entranced. Their withered bodies. Empty eyes. In that room i could feel my heart. It seemed to dance within my chest. So vunerable, thrashing against alabaster bone. Tearing itself free, destroying itself. I felt my soul draining, i felt nothing. I wanted. I wanted nothing more than to devote myself to her, this unseen goddess. The Countess of my dreams. I feel into unconciousness, the last line of reality dissapearing into the myths of my dreams. My nightmares. Bodies, puppets hung on strings. Dismembered limbs bathed in rivers of crimson. I watched in horror as my soul became entangled in strings, ropes. Suspended. Where was my goddess?! Surely she would come, my savior, to rescue the kisses that i had stolen. My cigarette drops now. Tastes of blood, of her. Bound in rope i hung, and watched. Countess of my dreams. She appeared, but her teeth like pearls became fangs. Nails of ivory, daggers. Eyes of coal like burning minions. She flew, a messanger, a carrier, the captain of the boat, of the river Styx. Countess. I awoke, within her temple. among the bodies of her blind acolytes. Drowning beneath withering limbs. I awoke and ran. Fled the river, the temple, her home. She never tried to stop me, but i felt her touch upon my shoulders as i ran. Her kiss upon my burning lips. Now I walk through the night. I breath the numbing smoke to sear her touch from my lips, but it was burnt in with a force more powerful than fire, hotter than any coal. She lays there, in her temple, my Countess. She lays there in my dreams. I silently walk by. Inside my chest, my heart beats, rotted and torn, impaled by force and ivory. I have escaped. But i ask myself now, for what? I have escaped her to walk alone these nights, to dream of her. To live, barely. I have escaped to burn myself with her visions. To dream of one kiss.

~Falyn

By Falyn

"the moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait, soft winds whisper the bidding of trees, as this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart, and the midnightmare trampling of dreams..." ~CoF