Like Dracula I conspire

seeking love in nightly hours

beneath the moon lights chilling fire,

with ink and quill and deadly ire.

There is melancholy in my loneliness

and want of love, that pains my breast.

Somewhere beneath the sun she stands,

a silhouette, with ready hand.

I cannot go there.

Within the morning light she grows,

and fades my dark and darker woes.

In my mind I see her still,

I scratch out love, I bend my quill.

When I rest neath morning light

I can’t accept the fading sight

of her from my mind’s eye,

with my fleeing happiness.

In dismal day

I hear no song

in night I stay with thoughts

of love, to make me strong.

To mend the tear

that struck my youth

and ripped in twain

the wound of summer.

That hastened me to conspire

to pen my pain in nightly hours

and kill my thoughts of love,

so dead it lay on mornings ground.

You own my soul,

you own my quill.

I scratch and scribble

and love you still.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage – Lao Tzu