Dracula

His fangs,
sharp, white, can be seen
even though it’s dark.
His eyes,
amber, bright, seem to glow.
His skin,
dead white, cold as ice.
His heart,
desperate for my blood.
His touch,
soft, sweet, seductive.
His soul,
long dead, stolen, gone.
His voice,
quiet, whispering to me.
His lips touch my neck,
and I am his.