Blood Red Passion: Red Snow

I recall a winter ages ago just like this,
snow on the ground and blood in her kiss,
splayed out on the earth under moonlight,
she lay across me her skin so white,
the truth from her lips quietly spilled
into my own with a shuddering thrill,
she told me to drink of her, rich and deep,
and as her cold embraced me I sank into sleep.

I dreamed of castles high on craggy steppes,
a girl who gave herself with her dying breath,
of her search for the love she had lost,
the price she had paid and at what cost;
and I saw myself as a different man there
with ocean blue eyes and long flowing blonde hair,
how they had killed one and suffered the other to live,
the dream washed over me with memories to give.

So that when I awoke in the snow once more,
the flakes falling around me a hundred score,
her blood reminded me of our common past,
and my eyes sprang open with the remembrance at last,
of her lily white skin and pale beating breast,
the dark of her eyes and her hand on my chest,
I remember the way her lips curled in a grin,
right before a kiss that said “please love me again.”

And as she gave me her blood, crimson and red,
on each other now we so anxiously fed,
until both were slated in the chill night air,
she lay her hand on my chest, labored and bare;
this new life we’d found in the rediscovery of youth,
soulmates once separated, united by a curse and the truth,
I recall a winter ages ago just like this,
snow on the ground and blood in her kiss.

By Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

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