| To Be As She November 16, 2002 It is a night of ethereal pain, a song of dark desire, wolves vent their cry. The beautiful one awakes. Curling, icy wisps of death shouds her pale form, an everlasting wanting. Her silken hair cascades over pale and delicate shoulders, and her full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste the pale flesh beneath her. Now a night of ecstesy, I weep. |
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