Something I jotted down for World Goth Day:

I remember rough caresses
and the scent of dirt.

I remember the moonlight warping;
the ‘click’ of my window opening;
I remember glowing eyes;
and from outside, the cries
of a beast singing to the night;

I remember absence filled;
shadow become corporeal;
I remember an embrace that chilled
of the grave;
and, pricking my throat:
teeth.

I remember a voice like dead leaves
scattered in an autumn wind;
I remember whispered vulgarities, calls to sin;
fierce eyes upon my body –
cold breath against my skin –
I remember sensing deathbed secrets and and the scent of sickly sweet things;
promises of immortality,
and a fluttering of wings.

(C) Madison McSweeney 2018