due to slightly popular demand (and my own complete boredom), i've rewritten the original poem into a more standard fanfic format. however, that's about the only thing that's changed. there's some added descriptions and such, but no real plot. sorry if that disappoints you, but i'm kinda incapable at the moment of writing a full fanfic with plot and everything. i would never get around to finishing it.

Smiling Shyly
chapter-ified re-write

I.
At last the sun has set, and you emerge from your day time hideaway to greet the night. The full moon smiles kindly back at you, as if silently forgiving you for what you're about to do. She does this for all your kind, forgiving your actions because you need to in order to live.

You come to a vacant construction site, a popular teen hangout Climbing one of the few trees left intact, you wait for your prey. The others of your kind prefer the busy cities with bustling night lives to the silent suburbs you haunt. Easier prey, they say. But through the many years you've come to find that suburbs are better. Much less alcohol-tainted specimens, more potent.

But tonight no one seems to be out. So you leave, deciding the park would be better. You always find someone here who is so lost they don't care if you breathed or not. Deep inside, you climb a tree to wait. It's a warm night and you know it won't take long for someone to show up.

And indeed, soon you see a figure approaching. He stops below you; he's gorgeous. He's smoking and muttering to himself, you can't really make out what he's saying. You smile to yourself; he looks delicious. Even from several feet above him you can smell the heady scent of his blood mixed with life-essence.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves and temporarily curb your bloodlust, you jump down, landing lightly in front of him. You face him, smiling shyly up at him through pink bangs.

He abruptly stopped muttering when you hit the ground and is now looking starledly at you with almost inhumanly gold eyes. His cigarette is hanging limply from slightly parted lips, blonde hair reflecting the nearby streetlight.

"Hi," you say quietly.

His eyes narrow and his mouth closes, expelling thin streams of smoke from his nose, and your stomach flutters at his intense gaze; he doesn't respond.

Yet somehow, you get him talking within a few minutes. He has a deep, calming voice, almost a low tenor, contrasting sharply with your higher tenor. A few more minutes has him completely under your control. To anyone watching you would seem like two sleepless friends.

And he is kissing you, his burnt out cigarette lying forgotten on the ground. Even you aren't sure how it happened, but you realize you wanted this.

He is so far gone that he doesn't realize your lips left his until your teeth pierce his neck. But it doesn't faze him; he leans into your touch instead, moaning faintly. You are surprised by this at first, as none of your other prey ever reacted this was to the initial bite. And it encourages you, his positive response, to continue feeding on him. His blood is like nothing you've ever tasted in all your centuries-long life.

You're about to drain him dry when you stop. This is too beautiful and addicting a creature to kill so blatantly. So you leave him. Longing for your touch, he sways slightly as you fade away.

But you promise to see him again.