My crimson tongue      runs up your petal           tasting and licking                the dew off you.Your wet tongue      slithers into my mouth       ...

Waiting,     waiting          in thirst               in anticipation still. Our blood moon,    will ascend the velvety sky         above us,               orbiting...

Who is the ghost  in the mirror before me? Why is there a chill that I give myself? Why can I not speak to others anymore? Why have I become a mirage to the world? Why not end it? And become that ghost? Carefree in the netherworld but really? Ghosts...

Melancholy and mysterious...Stout you are with thorns which bite!Open your veiling, black petals for me so I can gaze into your eyes!To see your face, perhaps the shining from mewill attract you to this handsome star?Still, your thorns desire...