Desire

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

Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds her deathly form,
an everlasting desire.

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

Now a night of vitality,
I rise