Lips so wide and tangled hair,
Face holds her unnerving stare,
Tipped white fangs and darting tongue,
So very old, yet she seems young.
Gliding movements, stalking prey,
Who will she choose for blood today?
Smelling air: it's thick with life,
Could cut her tension with a knife.
She picks a man, seduces fast,
This hunger was not meant to last,
She pins him down and bares his throat,
Of his fear, she does take note.
Her fangs sink deep into his skin,
Ignites the fire she craves within,
The blood burns sweet across her tongue,
She turns away:
The night's still young.
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