Rachel Pittman | 2 poems | Soliloquy of the Vampire’s Lover | The Vampire’s Confession

Soliloquy of the Vampire's Lover



Her silk tongue, her glass teeth,
her caramel promises, more sticky

than sweet. Everyone warned me
that this love would end in ruin,

but I never imagined it would be
so easy. She’s iridescent: a glimmer

of oil on a puddle’s surface. Yes,
I would drown for the chance

to taste the sound of my name
on her lips. I never tried to resist.

Could the tides refuse the sip
of the moon? She is quicksilver

in an hourglass, heart-assassin
in a velvet dress. All my friends

speak to me softly. I’ve become
a funeral parlor among bachelors.

But there she is, sauntering back
to the party, her lipstick touched up,

and when her eyes find me, pin me
to the wall, I know. I never played

with matches as a child, but now
my nights are spent catching

her ember glances, bonfire smiles.
I’m kerosene and kindling—

on my knees for her.
Not a match, she’s the flame.

The Vampire's Confession
  
  
  
I promised not to bite
               until you begged for it.
But I’m a liar and a thief

and still you trust me. I snatch sips
               from your neck while you sleep.
At dinner tonight, I shivered

with thirst, quiet, ashamed. You never
               noticed. Or I hid too well, shimmering
in candlelight, my sequin-dress

dazzling your eyes, a thousand little mirrors.
               Sometimes I feel like you don’t even see me.
Which of us is the trophy? You take me

to parties, waltz me through ballrooms.
               We glide like a pair of ghosts. Transparent,
glowing, all eyes on us. When did we

become a spectacle? Suddenly, I’m a siren
               but I lost my voice. You wax poetic
on the subject of my smile,

and while you’re telling your friends
               how I’m the one, I paint the back of my hand
with champagne condensation.

I’m prodding my sore teeth with my tongue,
               waiting for you to take me home,
waiting for your eyes to close.