Before the cock crows three times, I
will proclaim my love for you. You'll know the messiah by the
bitch-slap I give him in the dark. And they'll ask for your
autograph, but don't be fooled sister, they're vultures, with only
one thing on their minds. They'll clamor and dazzle and sputter and
grope at your skin, thinking you're nothing more than a dream in
lingerie, a plaything to be broken in and used up, don't let them
into you soul, wink but don't smile. You're a goddess, something more
elusive that flesh or friction. You're warrior, something more
chaotic than lust or love. You're my friend, my sister, something
more precious than a name or a pair of hips. Remember, my dear,
you're eyes are brighter than a thousand suns, deeper than the
foundations of the earth, and purer than the empty void of space, no
man will ever see you the way you slip and glide in and out of the
ether, only you can decide the true measure of your power and beauty.
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