By Ivor Stevens
It was the fourth of July
The party seems to be finished
Wondering how long I dozed off for
Most of my friends have gone
A few bodies left, laying on the floor
Best I have a piss before I go
Now where’s that bathroom
Whoops, there’s a girl in here
Dressed all in blue, and she’s on the floor
Slouched in the corner, not moving
Her skin is “a whiter shade of pale” *
Red lip-stick all askew
Then I see myself in the mirror
Agape, my white shirt’s moist and filthy
Splattered, deep dark red
Oh no ! It’s human blood
I turn the crumpled girl over
Her pretty blue dress, covered in blood too
What’s happened, I can’t remember
Only blurry images of red, white, and blue
My mind goes numb
And my legs start running
Out of here in a hurry
Thump, I trip over
I thought that bloke was asleep
I didn’t notice at first
His red shirt’s also oozing out blood
Holy hell, he’s dead too
I’m stumbling through the front door
Grappling, panicking, now where
Where do I flee to
Think ! Yes, a nearby church
Has an early dawn service
A sanctuary for my burning fears
And bumbling into the church I go
Settling upon the nearest pew
I’m white as a ghost and turn to see who’s beside me
An eerily stunning red-haired girl
Wearing a dress of red, white, and blue
Memory flashes back. It’s Her… from the party
She’s staring at me now, with livid red and white eyes
I see fangs protruding over her blue lips
Dribbling fresh blood, hissing at me
She gurgles, “Did I miss one?”
The Filia Sanguine suddenly grabs my arm
And her dark-blue fingernails dig deep
I’m seized, I’m gone, I know
There’s no safe haven here
“Where do you go to my lovely”**
Screaming tears of red, white, and blue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ivor Stevens is a part-time plumber, a former industrial chemist, and he dabbles in writing poetry. He has had several of his poems published. He started writing eighteen years ago, after suffering a stroke, to help with the rehabilitation process. Ivor was also the primary carer for his wife during the thirty years of her severe MS illness. He credits his wife with being the main inspiration behind his writings.
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