She's a vintage dark soul.

Made of blackened butterflies and midnight skies.

Wild roses and magic spells.

Adorned with thorns.

She can pierce your soul with a mere glance.

For she is a open book of a story you can't understand.

How elegantly she dances.

Enticing all.

Entranced.

Raven wings and crimson blood.

She sings of magic under the moon.

Long black skirts and ivory skin.

Her hues so beautiful made of sonnets and sin.

Midnights mistress.

Magic and moonlight trembles from her fingertips.

Enticing deadly bliss.

Her voice lilting softy like a lullaby.

Tantalizing and hypnotic.

Souls snatched at the blink of the ravens eye.

Those that hear her song shall die.

The raven's cries fade in the chilling breeze.

Life and death merge with ease

Her magic hauntingly beautiful as his fluttering wings.

Midnight's mistress sings.
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