My Apologies

Everynight -- your cries ring through my ears.
So I'm not supposed to touch you again.
But that's ok;
'Cos I don't think I can...
After what transpired.

Your pleas for me to stop,
Your lips trembling my name,
From your ceaseless nightmares,
Do I truly scare you so much?

Your unattainable love,
My desperate desires,
May I merge our oppositions,
So Sakura petals may fall?

Belonging

When the first rays of sun hit my window panes,
I awoke fresh with nothing but dreams of you,
Words from our conversations danced ceaselessly,
Is it as if I have never been parted from you at all.

When the soft brown of your eyes have stolen my soul,
I no longer know who or what I am.
Except that my spirit is already in your soul,
Which leaves me with no conception of 'I'.

Together two sacred hearts have merged,
I now belong to you, where you belong to me,
You know I cannot deny you my submission
When your feverish bare skin brushes against mine.

Moonless Summer Night

Yellow,
The colour of golden corns,
The moon was so that day.
Did it signify madness?
Madness of my love for you?

Where dreamy clouds doth swirl prettily,
I pranced and played…
And my tiny delicate feet,
The roughness of ground it doesn’t touch.
Ah…bliss and oblivion…
But wait!
My eyes are atrophied,
I can’t see clearly…
In this self-created surreal dream,
You filter in and out unfalteringly,
Obscured by mysterious fleeting mists,
You so very often are.

I sense your presence,
But where are you really?
I’m in awe of your features,
But they’re mostly transparent.
I wanna learn your warmth,
Yet you shy away with the grace of a dancer.
I desire to touch you,
Yet my fingers traced only skeins of clouds.

Are you real?
Do you not answer me?
Maybe…
Just maybe…
You’re only fragments of my imagination,
Which, will dissipate like tender breaths…
On a hot moonless summer night.

Going Willingly Into The Grips Of Death

Unbeknown - ice cold your finger trailing
Tracing a shiver down my rigid spine
You eyes lock, and there's no key
You heart buried under hardened snow.

A portrait's stillness you assume always
Beautiful to behold; intriguing to watch
Sculptured ice shrouded in unparalleled loveliness
Will not somebody shatter you one day?

You move about in utter grace - unmatched
By even prima ballerinas of Swan Lake
Hungry hands reach out to touch you, grab you
You smile... but it does not reach your eyes.

A moment of warmth and you pranced about
Utilizing your powerful but 'mainly for display' limbs
Your involuntary smile in such a moment
Melted every memory of your primordial iciness.

Who could have thought you could look so endearing?
You smile as if you don't intend to
You, who control yourself so superbly
Could not do so at the given moment.

The disturbed tomb of the black bird has been restored
You moved back into your previous position
Ice cold fingers tracing my rigid spine
Securing a willing victim in an icy death grip.

Secret Tryst in the Lecture Hall

It was long lecture hall and we were almost at the end. In fact, our table was the second last. Being a prestigious (and rich) college, the lecture hall was designed like one of those high class coffee shops which scattered the area. There was a table and a comfortable two seater sofa where we were both seated, cozy in each other's embrace. Behind us was a pair of lovebirds, making out during a boring lecture. I suppose that gave her an idea.

She told me she wanted a bit of my blood, in a teasing voice I recognized instantly.

"Sure," I said. "Just don't let anyone catch you doing that."

"Are you trying to imply something?" She said with a pseudo pout. "That I'm a messy drinker?"
That was when she lounged for me, for the tender spot in my neck where it would be impossible for me not to yield. Her fangs slid in smoothly and the moment I felt my blood flow into her mouth, the world disappeared for me. The only thing on my mind was my heart that was pumping furiously, ever so eager to supply her with my blood, my life.

With the deafening beat of my heart, it's a wonder that I could still feel her fingertips all over my body, tracing the lines ever so delicately. I was trying my best not to make any sound. Would the lecturer hear above the microphone he was using? Could I be heard over the PA system? Just when those thoughts crossed my mind, I felt her fingers slid sensually down and she touched me with just the right stroke, the right pressure, the right way. I came faster than I suspected I would although she knew all along what she was doing, being able to read my mind with precision. At this point, I couldn't suppress the pent up sigh in my body and I believe I let out an involuntarily sound and almost fell off the sofa at the jerkings of my body.

She had dislodged her fangs from my neck quite some time ago and I scrambled to sit upright again, pulling my dress and straightening up just in time to sit serenely when the lecturer walked past me towards the girl who was making out with her football player boyfriend one seat behind us. I looked over to her and tried so hard not to giggle. I was also feeling a little giddy in the head and the puncture in my neck was still open and raw. She leaned in, bit her tongue for her blood to flow and licked me on the neck, causing the wound to close, perfectly, without a trace.

I believe the football captain wasn't too happy with the detention as he was aiming for a football scholarship and the detention would make him miss a class he desperately needed attendance for.

******

With the boring lecture over, it was time for us to move over to the next one. It was a long way off and it was an extraordinarily hot day. We was crossing the field to go over to the next building and I could feel the hot sun beating down on me, burning. I suppose at one point, I almost staggered. Cursing at my own weakness I suddenly remembered that I'd lost a lot of blood back there and that was probably why.

As usual, she read my mind. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's move on."

I suppose I didn't really convince her with that statement. She took one look at my paleness and bit her index fingertip, offering me her blood.

I didn't really want to take it for I know it wasn't easy for her to be under the hot sun either, no matter how strong she claimed to be. However, the moment the blood was on my tongue, I felt a sudden obsession to suck as much of her blood as I could, for the concoction on my tongue was the sweetest, most drugging, hot burning liquid I'd ever tasted. Just like high grade red wine ten times more potent without the dryness in your throat. There was this feeling of never wanting to stop drinking her blood but my rational mind was telling me, 'It's her, your girlfriend, you can't act on your own impulsive desires and drink all of her blood!' And that was when I stopped myself with considerable will power.

When we finally reached the other building, she collapsed onto the cool tile almost immediately. I was shocked and concerned for I'd never seen her in this lethargic stage.

"I wonder if I'm still not strong enough yet for such hot sun." she said with a weak smile.

I was seated beside her and I held her hand, placing my cheek alongside hers. A surreptitious tear slid down my cheek as I wondering if it was my fault for having drank her blood which made her so weak.

"I'm sorry, does it hurt? Are you going to be ok? Was it my fault?" I asked as yet another tear slid down my cheek; wetting hers.

"It's ok. I'm fine, not your fault. I just need to rest a bit," she squeezed my hand reassuringly and added, "No, I'm not going to die or disappear. I'm an immortal, remember?"

She laughed then and I followed suit. She had done it again. She had read my mind again. And I cuddled closer in relief. If she still have teh powers to read thoughts then everything is going to be alright. That was my last thought as I lay beside her and fell asleep.

We missed the next lecture but it didn't bother me for I was snuggled close to her in an obscure corner of the university and I shall always remember that day. The day I first tasted her blood and would be the start of my obsession for her.

Hair Ritual

Every night, I would take your brush and run it through your platinum blond hair. The fact that it goes all the way down to your waist means that the ritual would take longer than estimated. The tangles in your hair are like the tangles of our lives. The harder i brush, the worse it gets. Sometimes, it even breaks your hair and you cry out in pain but I ignored it. Your hair must be free of tangles when I get into bed with you.

Tonight is no different. After you bathed and cleaned your face, you stood in front of my dressing table obediently, waiting for the touch of brush on your hair. I can never gauge if you liked the ritual or not. It had always been done in silence. But tonight, I thought it should be different. I thought it should be special.

I took the silver backed brush and ran it through the ends of your hair first, where most of the tangles are.

"My dear, how are you today?" I asked, very tentatively.

"Fine," your answer was truncated but what did I expect?

My left hand held on to the middle of your hair while I tried to brush out the tangles at the end. Looks like the tangles can be quite stubborn.

"Do you like me brushing your hair for you?" I asked, deciding to get to what I wanted to know without beating around the bush. You didn't answer. "It's just like last time, isn't it?" I asked, this time provocatively. I wanted an answer. From you. Even if it meant your latent emotions would be stirred up yet again. Even if it meant that you might be angry at me. But you weren't.

"Yes, just like last time," you answered me in a monotone, your mindless repetitions of what I just said chilled me to my bones. Can you not think on your own anymore? Was what transpired that very traumatic?

Your back was to me and I couldn't gauge your expressions. I was tempted to turn you around but I didn't. I continued on with the ritual. In my carelessness, a strand of your hair was uprooted and your cry this time was heart wrenching. It started out with a few unsuppressed sobs which soon escalated to a full blown brawl. I now know your answer, it will never be like last time.

When you finally turned your head to face me, nothing could prepare me for what you had became as you wiped away the red tears running down your pale cheeks. That was when I felt my heart pump incessantly. You seem to read my mind as you barred your fangs and sank it deep into my neck.