#( well then ...

2, falling asleep on or next to them  - sorry, closed!

dear pretty nymph, 

by the time you read this i have left your bedroom and fled your abode like my life has depended on it. i cannot bear to stay in your proximity for too long in your unawares (it makes my heart shudder in such a way i bear not to take an extra minute to qualm on). 

you, luring me into you bed as easily as it was into your mystic lake of tartarus, i knew my letters had your thighs clenching and fingers slipping between. what had manifested in the hells of your bed were the beauties i cannot fathom, once again your fingers around my neck and my chest begging for the thread of life. 

this is how soulmates from hell make love.  

because after i bruised your hips and tired your muscles in the wrestling of our love and violence did we cease. and you felt it too didn’t you? that this was the feeling between dream and awaking, the feeling of being cleansed. 

you see, i didn’t need your cunt hungry for my sex to know that this is attraction. 

(the worst of sorts of course, we’re always the worst.)

i bet you had enjoyed the way i smelt in the crook of your neck, me nuzzling into you for the comforts of your hell. so i’m not surprised that you find comfort in the man who could only see your worth (nude or not). i’m flattered.

oh how i had wish i took my narcissus away, sprawling her thighs open and delving in to taste her nectar as she stirs for pure to awake, hearing the moans of the devil – i do not. you make my heart shudder and repent it from doing so i utterly want to have your organs churned and face, clawed, you vile bitch. 

oh how i resisted claiming the bedsheets with maroon red and our juices. maybe it’s the smell of your hair and giggle we shared lightly choking each other that i can’t bear to do it unless some of my blood is shed too. 

and only you, my dear nymph, is allowed to let my blood drop.