The Blackest Gift Poem by Carniz Fatema

It is a night of death, a song of darkness,
Wolves vent their howls,
The dark one wakens.

Evil shrouds her stalking form, an impatient agony.
Her black hair cascades over pale and tragic shoulders, and her full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the blood streaming from the pale flesh beneath her.
Now a night of darkness, I awaken from the mist, i can smell the blood and evil in the air like a thick perfume, and when she walks in, the air is sucked out of the room, her black hair cascades over a beautiful face wretched witch a wicked smile and evil concentrated lines etched upon her face. Could it be her? The one who brings immortality to the next level? She lives among the darkness, the shadows, the moon. She walks across a pool lit silver from the light cresent of a moon, her skin pale, challenges the moon, her hand is as cold as death as she locks it around my throat...