words from a mind that is only cracked.

Sweet Sofia

Sweet Sofia has always been my morning star. She is my Juliet, my Eurydice, my Queen Victoria. She's the skeleton in my closet, the ghost inside my mind.

She's prettier than the night sky, more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. She is hell's angel.

She is my angel.

Sweet Sofia has a diamond mind and a heart of gold. Her body is worth millions; priceless jewels and precious stones twisted and intertwined to make a masterpiece.

Chains of silver are wrapped around her gold heart, fusing the rubies in which she sees the world from to her eye sockets.

Sweet Sofia belongs to I and I only. Dark shadows of unclean, filthy spirits reach their decrepit, gnarled hands up from the abysses we walk among in the streets, desperately clawing to touch her precious skin. They want to sell her golden heart, steal her ruby eyes, shatter her diamond mind into a million shards.

These hands are unworthy of touching my Sweet Sofia. I know I must protect her. I find comfort in the sin of sacrifice. I find comfort in anything so long as she is mine.

She rules alongside me. We are bound by blood. Inseparable, untouchable. Her heart of gold is mine, and my heart of blood and tar is hers. We are dark and light, life and death.

Sweet Sofia has always been my morning star. She is my Juliet, my Eurydice, my Queen Victoria. She's the skeleton in my closet, the ghost inside my mind.