Cinnamon,
burned on my lips
the first time we kissed.
Your mouth burns like Fire
Cold flames
Taste of watercress and Cassia sticks
Like burning embers
on a frigid winter’s day
Like a warm breath
in miserable weather
Ice and Smoke
Like a drug that dances
trees of mists
upon my lips
Like cloves and incense
Your emotions
are in trances
in the rain
Shadowed
colorful dazes
and mirrors stare
my empty soul
Dracul tremblings
afraid of your own cravings
Maybe us vampires
should fear
our black rose passions
The cold
Ice and Fire
blades
of dragons’ teeth
upon concern
and calm darkness
It’s like the comfort
of our frozen graves
The auras like blankets
cover us
We fear
our spiced
strange
kisses.
R. A. Vega grew up in Lubbock, Texas, and now lives with her husband, Thomas Vega, and black cat, Bagheera, in Colorado. When she’s not making concoctions from the herbs in her garden, she’s spinning fire, swimming through information currents, diving into the abstract, or anything else that feeds her curiosity.
Her short story, “Until Morning” was featured in All Worlds Wayfarer Literary Magazine: Into the Dark anthology. She also received an award at Forrest Fest in Lamesa, Texas, for her poem, “Seraphim.”
Her writings mainly delve into the darker and hidden realms of the psyche. Taking her own experiences and struggles in life, she leads her readers through their subconscious minds—touching those soporific fringes and unlit mirrors at the corner of their eyes.
Published 2/14/26