A Poem by Linda M. Crate

a soul bereft

the world is not enough

it never is; you wanted more
you yearned to steal the
stars from my eyes, the laughter
from every summer crimson
sunset i gleamed; once i may have
remained compliant to your
behest, but now i refuse to give you
the right to slake your thirstat my expense —
vampire, you stole my heart away
once in march and kept it for
an entire year; yet you became
more distant than winter,
after you drank your fill of my innocence
leaving me alone and afraid of every
shadow that didn't sing your name —
you wanted to steal my luster,
but i refused to give it to you though it
may have broken my spirit
i wasn't going to give you the only piece of
myself that yet remained in my hands;
it was the only penance i could pay the gods
for giving my soul away to a man.