Beneath the moon's cold, silvery gaze,
He waits where the earth is freshly razed.
Loitering near the graves unsealed,
Necromantic lover; his hunger revealed.
Fingers swirl on soil that feels just right,
He waits for silence; he waits for night.
Virgin hearts beat under the tombstone,
He pries on them, so they're never alone.
Eyes opened wide, untouched by life,
He twists their bodies into ritual strife.
Bones that bend to his dark command,
Bloodied garments staining his hand.
He feasts to bind them, even in death,
Feeling their warmth within his breath.
Young and fresh, his mourning bride,
His mind a haven where all evils reside.