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she was scarlet inked incantations on rosewood remnants rupturing underneath blood moons and snapped wings- his sugar-coated zephyr at the edge of the cliff. now he struggles to breathe in her abyss tainted with nine shades of the ocean like the intangible saturn rings around the pupil of her smoked orbs from which he ached to avert his hooked gaze.

she, with crescents upon her palms shedding tears of garnet blood and a lucid love somewhere in the cherry chambers of her chili-flaked heart. her direful willingness to consume this deranged world so she could cure the incessant starvation in her arrhythmic chest- hence, he fails to move his legs amidst the currents that tether him down.

would it be so ludicrous if he had adored her enough to love the committed ache upon his feeble lungs? oh, she, whom so graceful with her blood-borne daggers and lethal fangs- drowning in her seemed sweet and intoxicating.

the surface flashing vividly but elusive, so he keeps drowning mercilessly in her fucked up frolics. her miniature lover on a noxious leash- forbidden to succumb to she the pied piper's detrimental tunes.

then through a malicious grin, she hums- "between the devil and the deep blue sea". although he knew better; there was no difference.

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