The Vampire

Love breaks your bones. Love boils your blood. Love cuts you open. Then, love leaves you lying on the ground. So you lay there, drowning in your own blood and suffocating from the pain. Love Kills. You wish you were dead. But…you are still breathing. And the thoughts…well, you have none. The moment right before you fell on the ground - that is the moment when pain is unbearable so your whole body becomes numb. Just in case your heart wants to remind you of how you use to love: unconditionally, all-acceptingly… you ripped it out of your own chest. Its safer in your hand. And you lay there in the bath blood, your wounds fresh and open, and your beating heart in your hand. You look up at the ceiling and see his shadow. He is still there like an uninvited ghost disturbing your mourning. The mourning of the love you use to share. You politely whisper, “Please, go.” Like a creature of the night, he moves graciously into your space, too close for comfort. What a beautiful tragedy! A zombie killed by love and a vampire who feeds on pain. What a cunning way it was to lure her into your castle and then with no delay turn into a monster. So you move your broken limbs and place your finger over your lips, “Shhh, my darling murderer, soon you’ll be a stranger, let us listen to the silence for a while…” But he is not done. Like knives, and whips and chains he throws his words at you. Words you have never met before and phrases each one more inventive than the other. You feel your wings being pulled. Wings? What were you before you died? A bird? An angel, maybe? So you crawl into the light knowing well that the vampires don’t like the sun – he cant get you there. As you become to recover you smile at your new found freedom. You remember who you are and who you have been. As you look down at your hands you find you are still holding your heart. It's safer there. You may never let yourself love again but at least you are alive. 

Anastasiia Ryzhkova