Being Sanguine

I had almost given up on Spring 2015, so it's fortunate you are always sanguine. Do you know that word? I've known it since I first read HENRY IV. I'm not sure whom in that complicated play deserves it, or has earned it. Certainly not the King with blood soaking his hands. Is the Prince sanguine or choleric? Well, some say 'sanguine' means a balance in the blood. Good luck with that! I can barely muster enough red blood to attract even a famished one. Most just stare at me going by, savoring my sudden fear but displaying no lust in my direction. It's sad being so unwanted. But in a past life I must have been the bold trace of every fantasy, hub of every spinning wheel, the heart itself in question or appeal. Now I will settle my accounts for so much less... As I said, I had almost given up on life- Yes, I know, it was only a tardy spring that dismayed me. I won't make more of this than it's worth. After all, there are thirsty throats everywhere. They may yet see me as worthy of desire. I won't even try to talk this through. It's useless. My trust I place, as always in your sweet nature, gracious and sweet... Oh, to be the Undead like you.