That night

It is a night of darkness, a song of ethereal pain,
wolves vent their loneliness. The immortal one
stirs.

Wisps of death shrouds her gaunt form,
an impatient desire.

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

Now a night of ecstasy,
I pine.