The Unholy Trio, Vampire Yoochun
dark love
It is a night of dark desire, a song of sorrow,
wolves vent their loneliness. The ethereal one
stirs.
Curling wisps of death shrouds his pale form,
a brooding wanting.
His raven hair cascades over
fragile milk-white shoulders, and his
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
blood streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
him.
Now a night of ecstasy,
I hunger for that which only he can give me. Love, eternal.