All Hallows’ Eve,
a night when our love
can walk amongst
the true humans
without fear,
judgment,
boundaries.
Pale makeup graces
my lady’s face,
fake fangs in her mouth,
a trickle of blood at her lips.
A black, high-collared cape
hangs from her shoulders.
She grins at her mockery of me.
I love her more.
Petting the fur
on my werewolf mask,
she takes my hand,
tugs me to the dance floor,
the very one
where I first spotted her
only months ago.
We dance,
rub bodies,
a prelude
to what the evening shall bring.
All Hallows’ Eve
celebrates the dead,
celebrates me.
~Drake