I'm thinking of the night back then,
as the night sang his poems, when
I saw you shape in the darkness alone.
Curious my mind was craving for more.
I stepped towards the woods, saw a face
of a beautiful woman, lost in this place.
Her lips, worth an ode, were red like wine,
this thought capturing, you could be mine.
Long hair, curly and black like a shadow.
Were you a dream of the night or a widow?
She wore a gown dark as ravens plumes,
a silhouette, which in moonlight blooms
came toward me, put a smile such lovely,
a flame of passion in me, no more loonely.
Hold her in my arms, felt warm, so secure.
An embrace suddenly so cold, am I sure?
I felt a sweet kiss on my neck, then a bite
her face, pale and bloody, l'm part of a rite.