The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I woke up wanting to smell like the remnants of that thing we do. Your hands here, mine there, eyes unfocused, walls dripping. It’s a give and take sort of exchange, a business deal that screws you in the satisfying way.



You’ll wear this, then that, then nothing. Rarely is it formal, mostly raw and wet and veridical: nails leaving marks on backs and mouths drawing blood to skin’s surface, laying sky purple signatures where nerves bundle.



We can do it here, then there, maybe vertical, up against that painting you like. Maybe you’ll clench your fist, I’ll curl my toes. Wherever it takes place, we’ll always end the same. Quenched, counting the breaths between the next time we are drenched in that thing we do best.

I’ve fallen for your laugh, which is utterly contagious. I’ve fallen for your goofy smile, that makes me giddy for no reason at all. I’ve fallen for all of our late night conversations, when 3am arrives far too quickly. I’ve fallen for your stupid jokes that make me laugh hysterically and which I’ll remember days later and break out in laughter. I’ve fallen for the nights that we’ve spent together. I’ve fallen for your eyes, which are so beautiful, and how every time you look at me, it’s easy to see the secret adoration you feel for me.



I’ve fallen for how you can make my day better, even when I wanted to cry a minute before. I’ve fallen for every single second spent with you. Even if those seconds leave us wanting more, and when we’re telling each other night, we don’t want to let go, and each hug or kiss makes it harder to leave and how “just one more” turns into 30 more because we’re so utterly intoxicated by one another. Only to look back and still see you naked in the door.



Most importantly, I’ve fallen for you, all over again. The way you help me stand up right when you get me too drunk and make me stay the night. Or the way you grab my hand to rub my soft skin, which our hands fit perfectly together. Or how you’re so protective over me. Or the way you loop your arms around my waist when you kiss me. Or the way we can mess around with each other and neither of us gets offended. We’re always happy around each other. That’s what I love about us.

I am in love with a monster. A thing so hated to the bone simply for its mystery. Monsters are beings one fears for its own ugliness, yet I love a thing so beautiful and rare it must be hideous to anyone else but me. It wages wars and beats its chest and mutters just to hear its echo, and I can feel an anger deep within him that sends shudders down my spine, as if my brain and my heart were two disconnected entities. The tremor of fear and the tremor of love are not so different, it seems.