white snow, white ash
it's all the same to you
and the folded, folding, fold filled hands
you place on her lily white neck
small and graceful like a crane
want to come together
like a vice
converging to stifle the life
that pours out her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears
and you wipe the liquid diamond off her
cloud soft, cloud white cheek
and you bring it to your parched, lined lips
and you take in her essence, her life
and you leave trails of obsidian dirt
and you hate it, how you hate it
so you cover her in red
in crimson
and leave her broken and bruised
with her virgin blood
staining her swan white sheets
inspired by lolita
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very dark. Nicely done.
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