Stoker stoking the Fire - #2

………and there she was
innocent handmaiden
bending consciously over
picking graveside roses
extracting the aroma of each one
through her sweet nostrils
becoming more beautified each time
how I wanted to be in her hands at that moment
all these sensations travelled through me
from places I know not where
something I never felt before
alien to my designs
contradicting every baneful indoctrination
how can the undead
be touched by such a thing of sanctity?
fairer than what she plucks out of the ground
then carefully places them in her basket
like mother to delicate children

I fought every purse of evil that rose up
within my lifeless being
to capture and corrupt as commissioned
her skin so palpable
hair so long and flavoured
marked out with the essences of the living
that my underground urges
were becoming oxygenated
waxing the fires of lasciviousness and desire
as I resisted the pull
my primal instincts
were usurped by her
consecrated carnal radiance
that breathed
like a fierce dragonflame
torching the whole countryside

I knew I should return to black earth
and hide forever from my mentors
and this torment shovelled upon me
but I was besotted
and about to err on the side of
falling for such a doe of twilight mortality

to condemn or to capitulate
I could not thingk on it any longer