Ivory silk, pale angel wings; you are, the temple of innocence.
Footsteps whisper on smooth, white marble…silver anklets hinting songs of the ancient. You’re a dream, a reverie pure from the silhouette of reality.
Look at you, so pure, your skin so unmarked. Wild mint playing hide and seek amongst the silver ribbons tumbling upon your shoulders. There you sit, a sea of dreams murmuring in your pixie eyes.
But I’ve given my word to the wind, to the stars and to the moon. You are mine now, just mine. Don’t whimper, sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.
Slowly, gently…I pull you out of this dream; we walk grassy fields, away from the blooms, away from the fairy-ness of it all.
Black…you whisper in a shattering breath…it’s all black. The darkness of hurt, the realization of betrayal in your silvery eyes makes you so much more beautiful. Your breasts gently heaving with pain, with suffocation…let me savour it…let me taste the hurt in your quivering lips. Lowering my lips to your own, I taste you, rubbing away the innocence from your lips.
There you lay now, a new beauty glowing across your limbs. Your skin tainted with crimson, your eyes a stormy silver, your tresses now tinted with gold. No longer are you as pale as snow; no longer are you a picture of purity and you no longer are the temple of innocence.
