Black shallow eyes stare into the night
surrounded by the demons recoiling from sound
the sound of laughter sung in the light
hollow cheeks and a painted mouth
witness Día de los Muertos witches dance in the shadows
twirling to the sound of jazz from the trombone playing loud
and swaying from guitar strings strum in the crowd
holding their familiar close to their hearts
amber eyes and sharp claws
whiskers that tickle across bare skin
pointed teeth to rip out your throat in one spin
beautiful painted lady alive for just one night
before passing back over to the other side