She lay on a black velvet bed,
With black roses that engulf her bust,
Absolutely pale, but her lips are blood red,
Her raven hair awakens his young lust.
On his fingertips he enters the room,
Not to awaken an angel that's asleep,
He wants her so young in her winter bloom,
Caressing her head says he "sleep my love, sleep".
She raises her head and asks him to dance,
His lust is too strong; he takes off his cape,
And cembalo plays a moonlight romance,
Intertwined they dance while the moon shifts shape.
His lust and her lust are becoming real,
In a tightened hug, her teeth he can feel,
Gently he takes her hand, bites in her white wrist,
She gives him her virgin body and a bloody kiss.
Now he isn't mortal, she can hear his newborn heart,
Now when he is of her kind, death can't do them part,
Two black shadows into the night, ready for their feast,
She is his countess, and he her lover, the beauty and the beast.
To Gracija - a girl I met over Facebook
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.