Oh, how grotesque I have now grown to be. I admire my rigged form in the mirror, eyes always trailing to my reflection's just so I can memorise how you look stuck in my pupils, and when I am done, and regrettably clothed, I dream of you even more, imagining what wonderful visions night has to offer me. If only the moon's kiss would reach my entirety, coat me head to toe with grey patches, instead of caging me in this foul addiction. If only I could indulge in this platter of curses for eternity with you, my cruel sweet. So devilishly sweet, my dear poison, as I hope I am to you.
Wonderfully,
Your Venomous Lovely
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