MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - Bad Blood
I should have known, her poor dear face so white
but love is love and Paris weaves its' spell
and easy came my mark, there on that night
she bared her neck, and ready, I could tell;
just as my teeth closed closely to her skin
an aching pain shot through my soul and tore
my probing mind apart, and locked my chin--
a toothache like I'd never known before!
But I can't stop! And as I cut her deep
blood rushing round my tooth and then the taste
that made me wish I'd layed within my sleep,
of nicotine that made her blood a waste.
And then she had the nerve that dreadful night
to ask of me, if I might have a light!
© ron wilson aka the Doylestown poet