Monday, April 18, 2011


You run from me,
Terrified of the power that radiates
               from my soul,
Black and Twisted,
Hungering for the forbiden red whine
Coursing through your pounding veins.

I catch you,
With lithe little arms,
Strength unmatched,
And feel the fangs come out.

I pierce the skin
Of your smooth slender neck,
So dark against my white marble skin,
A soft feather at my lips
As I slurp at my prize,
Gloating at my victory,
Already thinking of my next victim.

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