Casanova

He stalks still of the night,
A raven croon echoes contrite.
On wing alabaster as bone,
Silence disturbed cold as stone.

He preys on one, morals intact,
Disregard dog-eared virtues lax.
Happily-ever-after boast in vain,
Bloodred sheets virgin stain.

Absconding in dead of night,
Toll clear, by early light.
Open hearts ignorance plain,
Comfort sought easy to obtain.

O’ how effortless it tis to steal,
Southern Belle’s vexed goodwill.
Teardrops pool at reality so stark,
Disgrace in bedchamber dark.

Devouring prize, to toss it away,
Divergent phase, every day.
Ravenous beastie, ne’er satisfied,
Indifference felt for feminine-side.

His harden heart, steely as stone,
Incapable feelings of his own
Wicked a soul nary insight,
Of all who stalk still of the night.