Dark love

It is a night of darkness, a song of dark desire,
wolves vent their pain. The immortal one
rises.

Night shrouds her pale form,
an eternal desire.

Her silken hair cascades over pale and delicate shoulders, and her
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
death streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
her.

Now a night of ecstasy,
I thirst.

The End

6 comments about this poem Feed