This is a song length poem inspired by reading too many vampire stories and a bit too many listens to Werewolves of London. I can almost hear the song in my head.

Just Right

He stumbled in, shaky on his feet
looking for another bedtime treat
he scanned the bar for the one
just right for this kind of night

Hair slicked back. he spots his flirt
too tight shirt, just too little skirt
perfect for his twisted intentions
just right for this kind of night

Easily he leads her astray, and outside
soon his plan he could not hide
hiss ill intentions made her shiver
just right for his kind of night

Trapped within his bloody dream
she wondered if she should scream
but she just gave in, surrendered
just right for her kind of night

She stumbles in, shaky on her feet
looking for her next bedtime treat
she scanned the bar for the one
just right for her kind of night

Hair slicked back, she spots her lout
cocky and head sure, striking out
easy prey for one such as she
just right for her kind of night

Just right for her kind of night.
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