Specter Glass

Written in response to Writing.com's contest Pretty as a Picture, and to this picture:

Darkened muses adorn the looking-glass
Hollowed and dead pretty girl faces
Watching me from the burnished brass
Crying their tears and leaving demon traces

They were the three, the very first three
Whose blood and skin I claimed
They cried their tears with their plea
Beautiful, and murderer I was named

The other beauties writhe behind me
Their specter-bodies my mirror haunt
Begging for me to set their souls free
But they keep my form from growing gaunt

Each time I look to the mirror
I hear their screams and see their deaths
With their pretty bodies, to perfection I am nearer
And their suffering extends my breaths

For over a hundred years
Blood has been my wine
My skin soothed with maiden tears
And rosy flesh the meat on which I dine

Pretty murdered girls haunt my sight
Wherever I may glance
But I will not submit to the endless night
Nor lose my beauty to time’s eternal dance.