Ebony curls cascade around a Porcelain face,
A ghostly mask where beauty finds its place.
Dark eyes, a depth no brush can trace,
Secrets whispered on rough canvas awakes.
Dark velvet gown cling to a form divine,
A crimson bloom, a hint of danger divine.
Mortals would kneel willingly before her shrine,
Unaware of the darkness in the deep dark.
Her smile, a promise whispered in the air,
A siren's song, both tempting and serene.
A touch of ice beneath a silken snare,
A hunger veiled in a ancient scene.
Time slows its pace beneath her watchful gaze,
A subtle shift, a predator at play.
The scent of oil paints, a mortal's daze,
Oblivious to the shadows where he'll stray.
The final stroke, a masterpiece complete,
His brush falls limp, a chill against his skin.
Her crimson lips, a promise bittersweet,
The huntress claims the artist she lets in.