Colour

I remember those eyes, 
red like the burning embers, 
vicious, sadistic, 
that glassy look that comes with death. 

I remember those nails, 
glistening with droplets of crimson, 
black as a moonless night, 
a sharpness that comes with killing. 

I remember that bee-stung mouth, 
a sienna darker than black itself; 
curved into a menacing smirk, 
a hint of a fanged tip. 

I remember that face, 
the skin whiter than snow;
for the crimson blush, 
doesn’t honour the dead. 

I remember that lithe figure, 
clad in a web woven of the dark, 
a mane of white shrouding her, 
and a hollow right where her heart is.

~Yours truly. I realllllllllly hope you liked it. Thanks!