Upon the first watch of the night's tender eventide, she is but a succulent ghost, an ebbing tide against the gentle coo of the ocean's caressing spray. She seems innocent enough, and yet, there is an air of repugnance that surrounds her, penetrates her, and emanates from her lithe delicate bodice in a ghostly cascade of harrowing countenance. She is a queen concealed, her luscious masquerade donning that of a peasant, for she chooses to forever wander in lieu of a vague destination whose whereabouts are unknown, even to her supple senses. Her graces are overwhelming and irresistible, an unearthly mien driving some away, others closer, ever so much closer, to the trap she has lain for anyone whose curiosity is far too much for them to handle. Tresses agleam with indigo and ocean green illusion, she a quiet siren of the dark, for her power belies within her cold, yet passionate stare, ever beckoning the inquisitive natures of those around her. Each thread upon her ravaging body glimmers, like merciless starlight making love to the gentle earth. Elusive and tactful, she preys upon those who cannot see her and those who can alike, slowly, and deliberately, peeling away the skin of their faces to reveal their insignificant little minds. Elongated limbs reach the ground in fluent propriety, finespun paws of spider's silk tipped with gleaming teal talons. To make such a prospicient creature even more prolonged, her tail is long and gossamer, her bands of opalescent white laced in a creaseless texture. In the small expanse of her skull lies what appear to be two pale opaline stones, whose brilliance and deviousness emit shards of interstellar abstraction. They communicate without the superb lady ever having to utter a single word. Perfection lives within the abyssal concavity of her luxurious features, and yet, what lies beneath, is a hideous contradiction to what would otherwise be a rare paragon in this sanguine reality.

This life, is drenched in madness. And yet the eternal poet sings such a solemn song of peace, concordance draping each tender vocal in ceaseless harmony. Laughter laces my sedated breath, at each whispering death, each hideous life brought into this barbaric world. In seemingly holy matrimony, the world rotates, the sphere so blissful from a star's silent sight, as war and conflict rages on, the smoke of disaster and desecration rising forth from the vomiting mouth of the cave, the cave of ignorance, the abyss of loneliness, solitary confinement of the soul, unable to reach, incapable of that precious sworn love that every mind wishes to exist. Fire licks the trees. Water erodes the earth. Soft, soft breeze, adorned in a lusciously intoxicating heat, and this heat, oh how it suffocates and tortures me. I prefer the frigid cold of phlegmaticism. And yet, lunacy springs for my once blessedly unemotional heart, like a famished serpent hungry for my very blood, my very spirit. This voluptuous masque, has served me in possessive encumbrance. Beneath it lies the monstrosity the daemons yearned to nurture in divine molestation. Ergo, Lilith's devils seek me out whilst my dreams plague my psyche with chilling motives grotesquely betrothed to their hideous anticipation. My existence is a ceaseless opera, sopranos crying out their emotions, fervor consuming each lush tenor. Dulcet nocturne, a slithering essence of creeping, volatile manipulation, she is a single breath, conquered by the groveling cease of hell's gate, black flames embellished about her supple form, as an omen from Lucifer's very lips, the profundity of the dark embodied in delicious, yet quiet, crawling chaos. A watchful gargoyle, plated with a silver tongue and slender throat, in luscious repose she stands vigil amidst the umbraic pulsation of night's succulent air, a seething, secretly ambitious creature driven by carefully placed compulsion, illicit words to covet rapacious desires. How she longs to rule in this world of men. Even better, to rule alongside a woman, who, just like herself, is hiding a knife behind the slender curvature of their spine. She is an ambitious female, whose primal hunger matches that of a man, and yet her obsession with watching and waiting, observing and documenting is slowly driving her into the pits of insanity. There are times she cannot remember how she came to certain locations. There are times she cannot remember her past. There is a blockade somewhere in the conniving recesses of her mind, shielding her from something grand, or something horrid. Whatever be this strange presence that is obstructing a certain part of her brain, she seeks to eliminate it, for better or worse. But she is not made of blood, flesh, and bone, you see. She is manifested through the ways of secrets and lies, deception and the private grief she allows to gradually descend upon her sanity. Hushed, in eternal fire, and ice, alike, together in a seething concordance of calefacient splendor, she is an invulnerable force of nature, a knavish beguiler. Cold, but ever impassioned. Frigid, but embedded within the throes of wild-eyed desire. She envies, lusts, her greed a well kept secret until the first kiss of death is administered.

My love. I am writing to you while my breath runs short, and the sweat of feverish desire coats my brow. By the time you read this, I will be gone. I am aware what I have done to you, what I have taken from you. I am aware how much pain you must be feeling in my absence. I feel it too. I feel it within every step I take, and the farther I am from you, I am reminded of what a despicable creature I am. Do not assume I never loved you. The truth is, I never loved myself, therefore I cannot stay. The shadows whisper their hideous critique. The moon's voice is hoarse and savage, imploring me to repent for what I have done. I am attentive to these signs nature bestows, and yet I travel on, my wanderlust a ceasing entity that has taken a violent hold on my senses. I am a narcissistic creature, my dear. I covet myself, and yet I hate myself. Is this but nonsense? Probably. How can someone with such virtue in their heart as you understand scum as me, who crawled from the bowels of hell, bloodied and beaten, to wreak delicious havoc upon those who walk this planet. May your wounds fester, and peel, scab, then heal. May your anger toward me rot in ravaged, twisted concordance. May your hatred for me keep you alive when you are an inch from death. Vow to find me, and kill me. Bury my body without a marker for my grave, then spit on it. I want your disdain. I want your contempt, your scorn, your loathing. I am the putrid woman who broke your heart, and shattered the dreams you wanted to share with me. Perhaps one day, you will see into the succulent decay that is my psyche, and the broken tutelage that is my heart. Farewell, my prince of darkness. May we meet again, and then, we will together, make love to the stars.