Head’s a daze of non-inspiration, insecurities, wants and wishes of serenity, a clear mind and a brave heart.

Sweetly enlaced in his velvety notes, the little rag doll.
His arms cradling her torn body, fingers pinching all of the skin she could grab in her little doll hands.
Pulling as if she could bury herself even deeper in the embrace, tightly, tightly.
Concealed, her breath bared no importance, every last particle of her last would be only, solely, exclusively, entirely;
Him.