It is a night of blood, a song of subtlety,
wolves vent their howls.
The thirsting one wakens.
Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds her stalking form,
an everlasting desire.
Her ebon hair cascades over
tragic shoulders, and her full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste
the soul streaming from the pale flesh beneath her.
Now a night of ecstasy,I remember her.
--Ingosien
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment