“It’s a trap” she said
As she slowly drank her wine
She left me by the bed
With shivers down my spine.
“Perhaps you’d like another dose of blood
From my blue veins and soft skin
Should I pour it down on a glass for you,
Or would you rather just bite it in?”
Of women of blood as red as yours
Countless tales I have known
They end all in the same way:
A dying king with a dying crown.
So I won’t drink from your advice
Devilish woman of red
Pour me nothing but your fearful tears,
As you walk away to thread your thread.
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