Guest writer Tahimi’s poem, “Transylvanian Lovers,” in The Elixir.
My sweet beloved,
your stream of red
sustains me in death.
I cling to you
in the shadows of your dreams.
Red rose petals on fresh
fallen snow envy the droplets
of love that embrace in a crimson
river down your ivory slopes and curves.
My darkness and death,
the tomb and the wooden stake,
all wreak like the tales of deception
ingrained in your head.
Don’t you know you’re my lifeline?
My bud, the arch of your back
as I slip into your neck
opens veins of passion and lust.
At night you bloom like a lily,
your silken droplets ripple before me, my flower wrapped
in my cloak of night.
My sweet beloved,
you taste of ambrosia,
smell like the honeysuckle
blossoming in summer.
There is no death around you,
but for the darkness nipping
your neck with the rising of the moon.
You haunt me in my sleep,
so I will haunt you in your dreams.
