13 October 2012
My fangs retract,
I smell that smell,
For you, it does not bode so well.
The air is hot,
Your pounding blood,
Does things to me that nothing should.
My pale, cool skin,
Against your own,
The smell and sound just call me home.
Another dusk,
Another feed,
Oh, I love, how humans bleed.
Beautiful Blood. • Opuss № I