I dont know where the crimson fury of love is created, nor do I know why the jealous fury of my mighty rage tries to destroy the perfection of my love. I suppose, if I listen to the scribes and sages of old its because everything has its opposite. Up has down, hot has cold, and love . . . love has the Brat Prince Lestat. These unholy jealous thoughts befuddle me, arise my substantial temper and make me cross at a world that does not understand what kind of fiend I can truly be. What I do know about love is that I am in it, truly deeply, madly in love. I feel loves fire incinerate every capillary in my body. It ignites my flawless alabaster skin and makes it tingle as if a million fingers or more were caressing me. I hear love whisper a sacred promise and feel its gorgeous name land heavy and thick upon my wicked tongue. The sound of her voice tantalizes me, thrills me unlike anything I have ever experienced before and the magical sight of her icy blue eyes slices through my strongest defenses like a knife through warm butter. My Queen is the ruler of my nights skies. She is the color of midnights passion; she is the glow of the candles flickering flame. She is all things good, and holy and right in my world, and I marvel at how she moves me. Then I feel the icy grip of pure rage rip my heart apart. I admit it, my greatest fear; my strongest nemesis is that I will not be strong enough to hold onto this amazing woman now that I have found her. The chill of jealousy slips into my darkened coffin and keeps me unwanted company as I slumber. This rage, this festering ball of unexplained anger seeps into my chest and nibbles at the very fringes of my sanity. It is more than any Creature of the Night can withstand, and I scream and scream for sweet agonized release. And every night she returns to sooth me, her loving hands wrapped around my throat. I lie awake and shake too afraid to fall asleep, I taste her scent and I know that upon this day, at least, she has not abandoned me. I would do anything to keep her. Kill anybody she asked me to, hurt anything, and destroy everyone on the planet. I would drink the blood of the innocent child at plaster feet of Christ on Death’s decaying Alter. That is love. Yes, that is true, pure, and absolute love. I would willingly give up me for the cold grey steel promise that she will continue. I would die for her. I will kill for her. What more is there? Love, thy will be done. I thrust myself at your crimson-stained feet and cast myself open to your holy mercy. Judge me, as you will, execute your sentence, as you must. I will obey. I am your slave to the grind. But to the rest of the world, to the humans and devils foolish enough to dare interfere with what we have created together; to the weak-minded souls who plot and scheme and plan to destroy this love I have waited centuries to hold in my shaking hands, be forewarned. There is nothing I wont do to keep my beautiful one by my side throughout eternity. It would be most unwise of you to test me on that. Most unwise indeed.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 17:07:59 +0000
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