@beyondthestyx, “Do you not mind the red that always kisses me more than you?” [wine and blood, oh how there were so intimately bonded with each other. one flowing freely from a vessel, the other more hidden, but equally as consuming. it stains the soul, the skin, and most importantly——her lips. the red knew her first best than any other, clinging and marking, lingering far longer than any fleeting touch. and yet it still knows how to paint her lips so.. beautifully.] “What if it was poison, would you still dare to kiss me? even knowing it would be your last?”