Dear Nosferatu

a poem

Dear Nosferatu

we’re different kinds of vampires, you and I — 
clad in black, I stalk 
the kitchen at night, trace the purple 
circles around my eyes, evidence of
evening activities held alone
under shadows cast 
from a sort of candlelight vigil
for comfort, fangs sharpened
for enemies only

you’re the kind that sucks girls dry
just to live another day — you led me astray
into woods that weakened my wonder
and left me weary, but 
worst of all, I opened up my neck 
to you just for the chance to feel
loving lips
explore that tender skin, but
you were interested in 
my carotid 
and I only felt teeth
itching to incessantly impale
until I turned greyscale
just like you, shadow dweller— licking lacerations 
like a laudanum fiend, you leeched
off of me, so desperate to keep
puncturing for pint after pint
that your fever broke too late to notice
that I was already undead
in your uncaring arms