Red Roses

She answered her front door
The bouquet, ceiling to floor
Roses, red and silky, fragrant

Behind them stood the Count
Whom she soon hoped to mount
(without seeming too flagrant)

But first, dinner at Le Grande
Champagne warming their bond
Holding her hand, caressing her wrist

Then back to her secluded place
Where, in their first embrace
The bond was sealed, her neck kissed

She transformed by the light of the moon
He called it the taste of maroon
He was a man of great resources

Their gory nights, filled with laughter
And they both lived forever, ever after
Until global war killed all their sources


© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse, the prompt was, of course, vampires.