Bad Blood Monsieur L'Vampyre

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