She’s beautiful.

You can tell from the way her eyes sparkle and her hair flies back from her face

…a mass of ebony waves

But you don’t give a damn about her hair.

The moonlight catches her pale column of a neck

briefly, briefly

And your eyes come to life with the fire of a thousand hells.

You draw back farther into the shadows.

waiting, waiting

You don’t want to kill her

But you cannot resist the hum of warm blood pounding in her veins.

You cannot resist the tang of life.

flowing, flowing

She turns your way and you know that it’s time to strike.

She cries out, but only momentarily, for you place your hand over her offending lips.

soft, soft

You take a hold of her fragile form and brush that beautiful hair away from her neck.

You can wait no longer.

You sink you fangs into her neck, breaking the skin there with a sickening gush.

Her life flows from the wound, rushing faster and faster.

You suck feverishly, your eyes rolling back into your head.

it’s not enough, it’s not enough

You let her lifeless form fall to the ground and sigh.

Is it ever enough?