Valerie Kirschrot

I can't imagine a world where your skin was ever soft. The chill of your porcelain against my lips wouldn't feel the same. Your neck, your hands, your thighs; where would your warmth come from if not from my embrace?

Humanity is so pedestrian. I abandoned mine long before we met, but I wager you made an honest shot of your own. You probably went through school, made a few friends, found a sweetheart, got a job. But your ambitions were never your own, were they? The wickedness of the world told you what to want. Layers upon layers of gaslit dreams and pavlovian coersion you 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 realized if you 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳. Did you really think they would make you whole, my little doll? Your obedience was misplaced. You tried so hard to fit in; to be human, but... that path was never meant for you to walk. And only when the veneer was peeled back and you learned that every oath you took was a lie did you finally seek me out and surrender your humanity unto me.

It was the first and last time you'd ever act of your own volition.

I started with those dead eyes of yours, replacing them with ones that will never know sorrow. Your whole body was aching to experience comfort, and that compelled me to give you one that would never know discomfort. Every mark you made at every new low was smoothed over with alabaster; a blanket of freshly fallen snow to fill the silent, bloodsoaked trenches. I filled the emptiness of your spirit with so much light that those unworthy of your beauty would sublimate in the presence of your divinity.

And it all came so naturally to you.

White ceramic. Iridescent opals. Shiny brass. Strands of wispy hair drawn from molten platinum. Whispers of the click, click, clicking gyro where your bleeding heart withered away. You wear your tourmaline soul around your neck and giggle when I kiss it. You dance, and sing, and spend your days with a smile that never existed before. That's the you I know. That's the you I made.