He’s a black-hearted rose. A cunning devil in black and red. A blood sucking vampire, of the rusted-out and dead. Evil lusts for darkness to carry out its deeds and once the sun nods off to sleep Dracula seeks insidious shadows in which to meet his needs. Dark cape around his neck, no ragged dress for him and, piercing eyes aflame, he’ll glaze you with his looks, ’til he knows that you are hooked. A through charmer, hearts shudder at his name. In the beginning he will wine you, he will dine you. He’ll fill you to the brim with soft moonlight and wishes and then, commit his sins. He will take you by the hand, arm out stretched, will draw you in. Till your head is in the clouds and heart a rolling thunder, with his spell he’ll pull you under. He’ll kiss your eyes, your cheeks and, whisper in your ear all the tender loving words he knows you long to hear. Your bridges, your walls will all collapse as he’ll straighten to full height, drag you ‘neath his cape and… still beneath his spell… his teeth will bare and soon the sharpeness of their blade will sink right into you, and like a rag doll that has swooned you will be, until he’s made the final kill, partook and had his fill .
And once he takes your blood, well then…he has your soul.
Shared with The Sunday Whirl Wordle #27