Incubus/Succubus
What have I become?
I am a creature of dread;
Needing the blood-warmth of love,
To keep my soul undead -
And unalive.
Long years ago
When I offered you my being,
The fire in my heart
Died - yet I survive,
In a living hell.
For you stole my soul:
You drained it of its life.
And though I thought it ‘love’,
Your kiss bit like a knife -
Steel-sharp.
Your lips were pale and chill;
Your heart icy and still;
You drank your hungry fill,
Then, sated, cast aside
An empty husk.
Love made me want to please,
Surrendering to your need,
That nothing could appease.
Not even my essence –
Lamia!
Now tainted with your need,
On love I dare not feed,
Lest in a selfish greed
Others such as we be begotten -
O fatal gift!
© DM 6 March 2009
[The poem speaks of deep and dark areas where a conjunction of souls can have destructive repercussions – perhaps forever. Who can put a name to this?]
