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the dark is her preferred habitat;
her wings spread effortlessly,
silently and invisible in the
cool black that surrounds her,
as though a child's blanket.
She's comforted by the welcome
the wind speaks,
as it whistles quickly;
her black lace dress dances to
the wind in ritual.
Avoiding the lights of common humans,
she flies in joy;
her laughter can be heard inside the 
coffee shops and
From time to time she
comes across a bloody scene,
and the warm, forbidden,
sexy black-red life liquid
seems as though to speak to her.
she can feel the pulse of the living around her,
and it drives her wild with desire.
How she longs to swoop upon a victim,
to gain the taste of what was so
wrongfully taken away from her.
Another night, little nosferatu.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

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Date: 4/16/2016 1:12:00 AM
Sean Cannon. Nice to read your poem today. enjoyed ~LINDA~
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