No vampire entered my room,
Nor succubus stole in that night;
No, the name of my doom—
no name that I know of is right.
A beautiful form, elegant and fair,
alighting through the quiet air
fluttered down into my bed
and on my bitter tears she fed.
Ah yes, a stoic, you all say
who wept one night then braved new day.
A stoic, then, but not by choice.
She stole my sorrow with a kiss
and now no sobs will break my voice.
The time we had I once called bliss,
but love and sorrow both are gone.
I found neither on that bright dawn.
A cool picture I found: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/t_dylan_moore/lachryphagy-sorrows-that-flit-away/
Tale Told 