Sanguine Thirsts

I see through the whispering breeze

A shadow creeping through the trees

Not so much as a sound

Yet nothing living to be found

Like a pen drained of ink

Longing for crimson drink

Centuries of ravenous thirst

Fangs mark the damned and cursed

The stench of the grave’s earthen bed

Stirs the restless dead

Eyes fixate on virgin breast

The pulsing heart beneath the chest

Where scarlet rivers freely flow

Dawns the hour of the crow

Oh, what horrors they shall find

A pale corpse beneath veiled blinds

I retreat to crypt's foul air

To slumber in death's cold despair