She's so petite and stained, with a broken-doll nose. I trace the lines of her glossy lips with jagged fingernails. I finger beckon her heart and whisper sepia truths into her mouth. She struggles against my grip. Not with intent to escape, but to transform. Wanting so badly to become my little demon. To steal back equal measures of my soul that I have nibbled away of hers.
11:14 p.m. - 2015-09-02
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