Sweet, copper perfume teasing— me as I look down at my beautiful Black Dahlia.
Sultry gleam of crimson blood, highlighting her cold, translucent skin. Slowly— moving
down,
outlining her freshly, carved smile.
Spilling, no, flowing out— streams of red rivers. Leaving delicate stains, decorating her grass beds, while hugging each sec tion of her sep a ra ted body.