The silent memory of what was once a golden dream vanishes.
Standing silent at the foot of the bed she stares with uncertain care.
Her hair is a long flowing mess of rust red.
Her skin is pale, shining in the little light of night.
Her eyes are flooded with blood lust, the desire
To feed in the darkness of fright.
She smiles so beautifully, laughs gently,
Leaves me wondering whether love is really worth
The price that we have collectively paid.
Somewhere, the music carelessly lingers,
The leaves absently thrash in the wind
And the night is shrouded,
Shadowed.

 
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