Bestowed with the very best, the solace of human sorrow is offered only unto me—unto me alone who never begged to bear such ruin. I would cast aside mine lofty intentions, every sacred vow and whispered prayer, wert it not that I lean upon ahame—so do I.

“I inhale the sweet scent of thy breath, even if leadeth the whole world astray.”

Misfortune that never cometh tonight with my beautiful crimson bloom—I shall surely accompany my desire to caress myself for mine own sake, not from loneliness but from devotion, for Mine Own Touch (MOT) is the only touch that never betrayed me.

Ever prayed for / ever longed for / ever felt deep within / a wound that never closeth: a flame that never dieth, a name I carve and carve again into the dark. ♥️
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