by cricketjeff on April 22, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
And softly she caressed his sleeping face.
Erotic dreams did not disturb his rest,
Exhausted by his daily paper chase.
The scents of lust descend around the room,
As she proceeds to have her wicked way.
Her beauty hardly hidden by the gloom,
At last he stirs to revel in her play.
Her searching lips descend without a pause
His hands explore a tousled head of hair.
No time has passed before he’s given cause
To let his screams erupt into the air.
His empty husk won’t wake to morning light;
A Succubus has melted into night.
1. HORROR in SONNET form