The King is Dead: Poetry

From Robin

Poetry often overshadowed fiction during the 18th century, so I decided to add poems into The King is Dead. This is one of the first poems, written from a vampire's point of view.

A devotion of body and soul

Wait, my love, for the moon to rise,

Your breath, hold fast til break of night;

Await my kiss and do not sigh

For I come out by evenins’ light.

Your supple skin is pure and soft,

A warmth to lure me close, and oft

I dream to touch and to caress

Your neck’s faint bend, where I may rest.

For my heart aches and pounds in time,

With the rhythm of your pure heart,

And with my lips I reach to find

The very place our bond does start.

And with a sigh, our souls do touch;

My lips will part, and without much

You give to me what I most need:

To me, you live; for me, you bleed.