In the last dark hour, there is only love. I can feel it in the blood that courses through my veins. It is a warm, pulsating flow not my own, for I am but an empty husk without her and the richness of her gift. There is no need to take it from her, for she gives it willingly, knowing at any moment I could bring her to the very brink of death and let her slip. The danger, the fear, the sheer ecstasy of that moment comes and passes, for I let her live, leaving her enough blood to remain the beautiful woman she is. I do not wish to make her a monster like me, for it is her angelic qualities, the warmth of her flesh, the unaltered smile, that calls me to return again and again. Perhaps she is my Mina, for in that I know she is both my heart as it was and my doom as it shall be.
2017 Paul D Aronson.