The Werewolf

Image Courtesy: Google

He lurked in the night,

Under the moon’s gleaming face.

He hid himself not, though,

Instead came out in the moonlight.

The signifier of unknown terror,

Fierce and virile,

His chest rising and falling like a drum,

Belly flat like drum,

Eyes made of amber and ruby serum.

His life once was human,

Then his blood took offence with nature,

In the wild it ran freely,

And his body took its turn surely,

Fangs, fur and his head too,

Grew into a wolf’s.

A song rose from his heart, at times,

In blood’s significant rhythm,

And there was in his eyes,

A gleam and a shadow.

The gleam was love,

The shadow was a woman.

Her hairs floated in the night air,

Penetrating the chill of solemn despair.

The werewolf howled;

Jumped in front of her.

He neither touched her,

Nor his fangs tore her skin.

His eyes gleamed more,

Shading the full moon in the cold.

She looked at him in the eyes.

Her eyes too shared the golden gleam,

And he growled again,

Image Courtesy: Google

“I am a werewolf, you must run away,

Or your life’s road

Will take the hell’s way.

I beseech you.”

“I know you and you know me.

My heart’s strings sing for you in glee.

I am yours, give me hell,

If that price could buy peace for me.”

The woman’s words rang in the air,

With the blinking stars’ above,

And the fate so near.

The werewolf moved closer,

His arms bound around her hip.

In a tragic love’s final desire,

He kissed her on her lips,

And his fangs tore into her neck,

With the heat of her blood in his mouth,

And the shiver of her flesh in his arms,

He howled at the moon,

The cruel observer in the heavens.

Deathless the night witnessed,

Hopeless the heavens observed,

The deathless werewolf groaning in pain,

And the stars of his tears-

Glowing in hell.