As I lie on what feels like the precipice of the highest mountain, looking over the small world, my hopes aren't the only thing that are up. My pelvis pressing into the cold stone and the cold smell of the moist grass hovers past me in the gentle breeze. In yet another graveyard, on a flat tomb, I am waiting for her again. I know I will find her soon, or she will find me as I wait here presenting myself. My bear neck and chest unprotected, and under this, the beating grows harder and more thunderous, as I await her footprints which I know will come at the quietest part of the night. She knows I have seen her, she wants me and she must find me before it's too late.
For I am to expire, whereas she will never. She will always pulsate across the land in the night, exploring and in search of a new folly. One to torment, play with or lure to wherever it is that she resides. Some would call her a monster, but they are ignorant to her intelligence, her beauty and her power.
I close my eyes sometimes, in the hope that I will feel her hand move across some part of me. I turn from one side to the other to see if anyone should approach, someone with unusual eyes, too dark to be real but too enchanting to be dismissed so easily.
As the sun approaches the sky I know that it is another unsuccessful night and that I must steal the last few hours of sleep that I can, before the day calls upon me and I must again meet my futile duties.