Growth Is Pain

I saw them pass, they passed me by
A funeral without a sigh
I saw the dead inside the hearse
And felt the horror of my curse
I looked the eyes, so cold so still
In which all life was gone. Until
You came along on wisps of night
“There is no need to feel such fright”
Your voice as harsh as silk it cut
My lonesome strings and I forgot

I should be dead, I should be dead!
“Oh hush, my bride, you should be bled!”

You told me not I should beware,
My lord of darkness and despair!
You told me not my soul was frail
And that such craving would entail
This life eternal, nocturnal feast
For those who die when light goes east.
We wed the night, its cry, its anger

Tormenting heavens with our hunger
Forever yearning crimson lust
We kiss, we kill, while all is rust.

And he who says that Hell means fire
Knows not the pain of the vampire!

Alex Niculae aka Dodo, enthralled by the malevolent magic of Baudelaire’s “Fleur de Mal”, has been writing horror poems and fantasy tales from a young age but has just now made an attempt at publishing and hopes to have a novel out next year.

Find more by Alex Dodo Niculae in the Author Index.

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