The darkest Gift

Mar 17, 2008 - 13:36 PM PST





It is a night of dark desire, a song of sorrow,
Wolves vent their cry, The beautiful one stirs.
Mist shrouds her walking form, A timeless wanting. Her
Her silken hair cascades over pale and tragic shoulders,
and her full scarlet lips part slightly,
to taste the crimson tears streaming from the pale flesh
beneath her.
Now a night of new awarness, I rise.