You have devoted so many pages to my name,
Caressing my face with your poems,
Kissing my lips with your prose.
All veiled love letters addressed to me.
You fear me
And yet you are insatiably attracted.
Come with me. Its time.
No, it cannot be. I don’t want to be forgotten.
I was buried in a common grave.
My writings were forgotten for years.
You are already dead.
How could you remember your own death...
Unless you have succumbed to my embrace?
Your life is not worth living anymore.
It is time to meet your own ghosts,
The people you loved and lost forever.
Come now , Poe.
You love me!
You are been a corpse walking amongst the living for a long time, Edgar.
It must have been quite a strain.
Maybe you are right.
Sometimes I think the only thing that kept me from you was my beating heart.
Look at your final act.
They all succumb to my prowess.
The poor, the weak; the rich, the powerful.
Everybody bows before me.
I offer you one last chance.
I don’t want my work to be lost forever.
My work is eternal.
I want that eternity.
I want to be sure my words will survive me,
that they will be never lost in time.
