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 morning’s 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