Silk, satin, velvet and lace
Bloomers aghast from raunchy strutting
Down the streets of London
1840
Men would drink arsenic
To be under your thrall
Asphyxiating themselves to be with you
The Colonels daughter
Out at night
Footsteps like raindrops you ditched your pantyhose
For delicious drips on your toes
Your fangs catching the light of the lunar eclipse on full
The hunt is on