Modern Romanticism

Do not run

From the dragon,

Withered thing.

I am still amorous

And in need of the kiss

Upon the jaws of mine,

A skeletal one.

What beauty exists

Else in this world, besides to devour

All that tastes sweet?

Blood is mixed with marrow,

And scents are ripe with the wine

And the cream.

A monster, you see me as

In the haze of a new night

When love dances with flame,

When grace dances with shame.

Be kind to me,

If you can.