Night-thirst

The only tune that’s played tonight
where darkness deeply nests
this bloodlust rushing in my veins,
this thirst! I cannot rest.
I walk the passage to your room
my footfalls hungry, hushed
as perished roses left to die,
I need to see you blush.
Your room is locked but in my hand
I clench the key I stole.
The hollow by your throat is soft
I crave your flesh, your soul.
forgive me darling my lust’s too strong
I cave and crush your nape
You are the love forever kept
my mist, your silvered shape. 

Lustmurder by Otto Dix

Tonight Sanaa is hosting at dVerse and she wants us to write Gothic poetry. A lot of bad tales grows from unharnessed lust.

25 responses to “Night-thirst

  1. Wow! 💝 This is absolutely phenomenal, Bjorn! 😀 The darkness, the lust and the craving is palpable here. I especially love the image; “I walk the passage to your room my footfalls hungry, hushed as perished roses left to die, I need to see you blush.” Thank you so much for adding your voice to the prompt. 💝

  2. A poem where night thirst and blood lust walk hand in hand, Björn, so dark I felt the hairs on my arms stand up. I love the hungry footfalls and the lines:
    ‘I cave and crush your nape
    You are the love forever kept
    my mist, your silvered shape.’

  3. Haunting, scary, creepy. WOW. This is really frightening; I am almost convinced you were Poe in a past life.

    With that said, this is beautifully written and weaved with dark and gory imagery. The simplest act of possession can extend far beyond what was intended; it gets worse and worse until the person that captured the narrator’s eye is just another object of possession for them to pursue, want, and control.

    I love how relevant that theme can be, and although, this ends in death, I see it literally as in face value, as well figuratively. This is absolutely stunning. My hat is off to you, good sir!

  4. This is a masterwork of Gothic proportions, indeed. Nosferatu with a Swedish flourish, Vlad entertains his guest, another pale maiden goes down in erotic bliss–but unlike a werewolf attack, this maiden will reanimate, rise up, and hunt her own victims.

  5. That’s a terrifying image and a poem truly Gothic in form, style and content. You certainly did sink your teeth into this challenge!

  6. Chills for this awesome gripping poem. The killing lust is raging, specially with these lines:

    You are the love forever kept
    my mist, your silvered shape.

  7. Oh this is bloody good, BR, and I don’t mean ‘bloody good’ with a Cockney accent. Sometimes I wish I could write like this; this is one of those times. Wonderful work indeed.

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