It is a night of dark desire, a song of subtlety,
wolves vent their pain. The immortal one
stirs.
Death shrouds her pale form,
a timeless desire.
Her raven hair cascades over
fragile milk-white shoulders, and her
full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the
blood streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
her.
Now a night of ecstasy,
I smile vaguely.