Memory of the Sun -Kat Udarro

The vampires died today.

Mistaking exposed skin for sin,
they sank their teeth into liquid gold,
turning their bitter blood turned to fire.
Around my neck is a wreath of forgiveness,
secured by a broken latch
that still finds its hook
in times of great need.
Foolish children worship vampires,
believing the cold, cruel night
to be a clever cloak
that will protect them from
the Suns return.
Shriek while you can.
The Stars seed their fuel
into your veins
and there is no where you can hide,
because once you were God
and the Stars do not lie.
They speak God into your tight breath
and rock you like a screaming child
rescued from the frozen blaze
of an endless night.
Compassion will find you
and seize your pain,
breaking it open, wide.
All the sliver slices
lodged in your divided mind
will loosen into flight,
as the Moon pulls back her own,
pulls back her tide,
cradling your fall
in the mirrored glow of her Lovers light.
All the vampires died today,
mistaking tender flesh
for weakness,
mistaking power
for the ability to bite.