Center Stage

Blood flows, and he is eager for its sight
and scent and taste. Vampire-like, his
fangs extend; even while his eyes are
hypnotizing her. Weakly seeking just
to speak, she sighs, knowing that the
end is now in sight and moving ever
closer, for she sees it there, in his
morbidity.

But he believed the end was meant to be,
so what else could she do? No matter
in which way she moved, his course
had been preset, and no one ever asked for
her consent. She knew not why or where
or how; only that some underlying vow
( to someone other) that he'd never
quite confessed to her stood in the way
of all the meant to be.

His eyes were glazed, and lazily, as the
life-force of her blood was drained, she
wondered why it was he ever came to
need her for a prop within his play; when
nothing she had ever said or done or
been had changed a single scene for him.
Trance - it was as if he lived and breathed
into it - always sinking deeper; never
caring where he came out next.

How would she ever know, now that
he sucked her vital energy directly
from her veins? Her eyes, that once
were focused, and saw him in a human
light, foretold the underlying truth as
lighted auras came to her to show
the way back home.  Angel or devil,
evil or good? What difference could
that make to her right now?

If this was it, then she would end her
days, knowing nothing more than great
desire, and a well-known feeling of a
need for something more than this.
Never filled, she overflowed for him.
What whim, what errant fantasy, had
brought her down to only this and
nothing more at all?

And then her fall, when there was not
enough left to survive on; as he took
his bows on center-stage again...

? Michaelette ?

11/2/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...