The Death of Envy

When I spoke enviously of Josephine’s long lashes, rosy cheeks and soft curves, the corners of my Samael’s lips lifted, and he let out a low, menacing laugh that sent an erotic chill down my spine. He withdrew his blade and spoke in a hauntingly satisfied murmur to its blood-stained tip: “My love, all skeletons look the same.”

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A Plea for Perpendicular

Our potential, when plotted on a graph, yields a pair of parallel lines, beautiful and statuesque, yet bittersweet in their fate, destined to touch but not once in all of eternity. If there is even the slightest hope that we shall one day be together, one of us must bend.

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Unsightly Teeth

My flaw of bad teeth made me a hermit hiding out in the ice house and then before I knew it came the end of the really human wold with poison death.
I did find Wanda in the woman’s prison, but you can’t call it love when someone is so very terrified of your teeth they sometimes wet their pants.

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Hiding from the Stars

It was like standing in the middle of an open field on a clear night, trying to hide from the stars. He must have already known what I had done, just like the stars would have seen me all along as I fruitlessly darted and ducked behind fences and bales of hay – and now all I could really do was to march straight up to him and openly reveal my transgression against his loyal love.

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Love’s Labours Lost

There were times, when she would catch the faintest whiff of fresh air, that she could remember with startling clarity the nights spent out on the lake, riding around on the boat, Maura’s hand clasped in her own as they looked up at the stars from their pallets on deck.

But the lake was gone, along with the boat, Maura was as good as gone, with no idea what had been done to keep her safe, and the only memories she had to look forward to making now were how far they could torture her with hard labor and hard blows before she merely phased out of existence.

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Love, Attestable

Say not that your love for me is infinite, for infinity is an unproven theory – such that nothing but infinity itself will persist long enough to witness whether or not infinity truly carries on forever. I am not saying that I don’t want you to love me eternally; only that I want your love for me to be unquestionably certain.

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