Lvcifera

He thought me a simple thing, too easily broken like the ribs of new grass that glutton themselves on a baptism of daylight gorgeously golden, but this baptism he can keep-I will not let it stain my marrow, and his name too he can take-for I have my own, I will not let such plain conventionality cleave to my breast, an aureole of moonshine encircles my proud peaks, Passion's palpitating tirade seeps from the pores of my skin, and I am she who collects the Stars shining up my spine, enticing the Dark to give up her secrets to the sweet feminine scent of my lotus, oh if only he knew that my witcheries were a gift-not a curse! He thought me a w