The Nosferatu
by Cora Windover

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She steps out from the yawning black
Eyes burning with the light of lies
She beckons with her pale hands
“Come, my darling. Come.”

Her lips, too red; her skin, too white
Her hair, a river, inky black
And yet she burns with pure desire
“Come, my darling. Come.”

She taunts you with her swinging hips
And holds you with her burning eyes
The softest skin, a teasing touch
“Come, my darling. Come.”

Can you resist her now?
Can you fight what you desire?
Can you turn and walk away?
Or has she twisted you too far?
Has she twisted you too far?

She gives you passion, pure and high
She’s everything your heart desires
But what she wants is something more
“Come, my darling. Come.”

She bares her teeth – too long, too white
She licks her lips and strokes your neck
She pierces skin and drains your blood
For now, she is alive!

And then she leaves your body there
So cold, so dead, and far from home
She is a child of the night
Cold-hearted, cold-blooded –

And eternally alone.

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