Press My Lips To The Wound

He spots me in the dead of night,
Underneath the willow tree.
He can feel my empty sorrow,
And he wants me to be free.
He walks to me, so smoothly.
So beautiful, his shape.
His muscles reflect the moonlight,
Surrounded by his cape.
The silence tells me everything,
As I take his aura in.
His charm, it overwhelms me,
I know this is a sin.
A smile parts his darkened lips,
He needs to feed tonight.
But hes more concerned with changing me,
And making the wrong things right.
He wraps his bleached white fingers,
Around my waist, and soon he sighs.
My hair it blows behind me,
So the Vampire closes his eyes,
Pulling it back, he licks his lips,
And pauses, only slight.
He makes sure that I dont object,
Before he takes his bite.
His warmth seems to sustain me,
It floods me to my core.
My memories all leave me,
And I fall weakened the floor.
He lies me down so gently,
That I scarcely even care.
He slides his cape off both his arms,
And exposes his writs, bare.
He slides his long black fingernail,
Across his wrist, and bleeds.
He presses my lips to the wound,
And seems to know my need.
I drink until I die again.
He leaves me for the dawn.
My soul has fled with the night,
But my body has moved on.