Vampiress


A nimble yet deadly flower,
Your petals drawn with razorís ink.
Full of rage and graceful power,
In death through life you sink,
For blood you feel to drink.

Under florid lace, skin shows white,
You wear a sheen of sanguine mist.
This contrast that makes a lovely sight,
From the lovers you kissed,
You add your deadly twist.

Perched alone in this wondrous place,
Your beautyís sure to radiate.
Of intentions you give no trace,
Calling lovers to fate,
Youíre a most deadly date.

Hunting in this dangerous park,
In the shadows your eyes shine bright.
Your hungerís sure to leave its mark,
In flora of the night,
With that most loving bite.

With features long and delicate,
Like a statue, you take a pose.
Under that pallid sun you sit,
Forever, you stay froze,
My cold and fatal rose.

Without a thought, you take nightís fruit,
An orchid, on the tree of life.
You drain its life with strangling root,
With passion you bring strife,
Death's little savage wife.

Only in the dark do you bloom,
With passion, every night you feed.
With all your lurid pomp and plume,
No languid life you lead,
You take night's life with speed.

Youíre paused for the next passerby,
Like the flytrap, you sit and wait.
Sure of purpose and keen of eye,
For prey with ambling gait,
Who shouldnít be out this late.

Making my way, I feel your stare,
For you, I will present the show,
Passing like your not even there.
Iím really in the know.
Iím here for what you owe.

My lust is great in this florid hour,
Passions rise with flush and flurry,
Just as great as yours, my flower.
I walk with no worry.
I am in no hurry.

Oh how Iíd love to be with you,
But alas, it can never be.
Lovely blossom of palest hue,
You will never be free,
Once youíre plucked from this tree.

Iím truly a darkest specter,
Truth you have no choice but to face.
Here to drink of sweetest nectar,
Youíre in my deep embrace,
Taking which you encase.

With every draft of syrup took,
My love for you grows all the more,
You, I could never overlook.
My darkling paramour,
Deathís little metaphor.

Victim of this brutal garden,
If only thereís another way.
I must beg for your pardon,
Itís on your kind I prey.
Faith in your blood I lay.

Victim of this brutal garden,
If only you could have been warn.
Through your death my heart will harden,
With your blood my soul is lorn.
Itís through your blood I am born.






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