Rebecca & Quinn

Angel, Angel, cherry-lemon bliss,

Your moon-lit, cold vampire

She drinks in your all of your colors,

She tastes your heavenly kiss.

Her Angel’s flower bed is sweet, above any realm of existence

Each petal craves it’s essence be restored

Each petal of her Angel is her nectar

It is her truth,

Alas,

The Angel of golden sun slinks in to dream, to steal away the cold, sad vampire’s bliss

It is her own fault, she let a dark raven entrap her once again

And now her cold body, once entombed by exquisite heat, a drenching lemon twist

Is now wrapped in the catacombs

And dredging wants of a seething, jealous raven

Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca

Is the sad vampire’s name

Though she dissociates and slinks into the oblivion

Of her unresolved mortal coil

When her Angel Quinn

Cried out her name like a whispered prayer,

It was her golden safe haven,

So she is

“Goldie”

And if

The blonde Aditi

No longer carries a hold over

Rebecca’s Goldie,(your smell haunts her like a frozen heat)

Please send her that picture of a red orange green yellow day

Of overflowing petals that sink the cold

Away

And burst up that fresh warmth

Forever.

Yes,

there is audacity in the cold vampire’s request

But her Angel would not

Want it any other way.