By: Linda M Crate

i couldn’t be your dream
you waltzed in,
killing my dreams;
insisting i be someone
who i wasn’t
to fit your aesthetic of
what a woman should be—

i refused,
clinging stubbornly to the reality
of me rather than your
ill-conceived and selfish dream

where i didn’t have a temper
or voice of my own;

you wanted arm candy
and a mother to fawn and coddle you
someone to clean up
after all your messes rather than
someone to build your life with—

you wanted mother’s milk
not the phoenix with fire in her veins,
whose tears brought forth healing
but whose flames would destroy your world of nightmares.
###

you’re no match for me
you wanted to own me,
as if i were a piece of property
you could take hold of;
but i didn’t let you win this power play—
you insisted that you loved me
only so i’d stay
not because you really did,
and after all your insincerity and lies
you had the audacity to insist i remain
buried?
i broke open that coffin like it were a box
not the holding cell you meant it
for it to be,
broke forth through the soil like a fierce flower
tired of being buried;
leaving all the cold and dampness of your death
behind me
as i rose to my life—
you see, a damphyr, is a vampire’s daughter;
all your little trick offered was the chance for me
to catch up on some much needed sleep so should you
enter my kingdom again i will show you how
a coffin really works
because you won’t rise again,
i’ll be your silver bullet.

###

i’ll be a monster more dangerous
you wanted me
stripped of voice
or meaning,

laying in need of your
words;
you wanted someone

to mother you
not a true connection
with a life partner—

i refused to be silent,
and i refused to swallow the temper
you said that i didn’t have;

so you shooed me away
locked me in the attic like a mad woman
except you’ve never met anyone

my caliber of crazy
i broke free of your woody prison
you think you are the only one that can transform?

i guess i hide the monster well,
but she remains;
and i’ll let the damphyr rise if it means the werewolf falls.

###

bad moon on the rise
howl at the moon
she will not save you,

my mother is the moon;
and my father is the sun

together they’ve given me
all the light i need to break your

unforgiving darkness—
your nightmares shall be no more,

no longer will you inflict your
curse upon mankind;

i will free them of the monster of you
they’ll never see the monster of me coming—

there’s a bad moon on the rise,
and you’re to blame;

i am done swallowing down all my pain and rage
will let my nightmares devour any that seek to destroy my dreams.

###

not your chickadee
i bite back
so go ahead,
think you’ve
got the upper hand
so when we meet
again
my nightmares can
lay you to rest
in the wood;
thought of me as some
little chickadee
i told you that wasn’t me—
but if you have to learn the hard way
that’s on you,
i’ve got enough rage to burn the sun;
break open the monster in me
& don’t be surprised when she destroys you
because mercy may be my strength but wrath is
my weakness—
i told you before i had a temper,
but you tried to brush it beneath the rug;
you’ll soon see the victor of this war will be me
i refuse to do anything more than rise
above any death you could give me.

###

fighting fire with fire
there are more than wolves in the wood, didn’t your mother teach you that? i suppose it’ll be her loss when you’re gone, the wood isn’t forgiving of the innocent so you cannot expect she’ll be forgiving of the ignorant, either; there are more than deer leaping wounded and squirrels chattering with chipmunks—there is me, neither human nor vampire but a shade between, a damphyr always cheating death with life; but sometimes sacrifices must be made—i am the queen of this wood, and you are not my king; so i am afraid from the moment you walked into these trees you were most certainly doomed—i am not sorry for it, they say an eye for an eye will make the world blind; but also teach you sometimes you must fight fire with fire—my flames devour everything in their path and won’t stop until even your ashes have forgotten your name.