Sweet Blood

She was a pin cushion
For every mosquito,
Flea or fly
In the vicinity.
She was cursed
With a body chemistry
That drove them wild.
They would go into
A frenzied attack
The moment she arrived,
And would follow her
From room to room.
They just couldn’t seem
To get enough of her blood,
And over the years,
She had given plenty.
If she was in a crowd,
They would land on her
And no one else,
In fact,
She was good person to have
Around at a party.