It is a night of darkness and desire,
a breeze blows throw of ethereal sounds,
wolves bay at the moon.
The darkness stirs,
a dark form approaches.
night shrouds her brooding form,
of eternal rot.
Her ebon hair cascades over
pale and tragic shoulders,
her full crimson lips part slightly,
to taste the blood streaming
from the pale flesh
Now a night of shared vitality,
She thirsts no more.