Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Sultry tones summon,
defining me, clawed
and bleeding with passion,
two of the same deceit.
The lines between beast
and savior blur.
And you ask,
Do you love me?
And I say,
I’ve never loved anything else.
Pain moves in
where love once lived.
Love packs a duffle
and drives away
in a blue van.
Music pricked his ears,
pouring straight
into his soul,
transforming him
into a creature,
wind in his fur,
flies in his teeth,
lifted from love’s arms,
its primitive heart
barely beating.
In the tower,
I watch you healing;
it’s a self-served
march to freedom.
Memories, they float
like chocolate,
taste me sweet
inside the mirror.
And I radiate
with power
to the unposed
questions answered,
as the master
turns a cartwheel
to become
the great pretender.
Still the children
won’t forgive me
if you sleep
without your nighty.
Breathing in
the tortured cadence
and I want to take
you with me,
but I’ll stay.