he had embraced her lips as if a rottened grave dancers yearn for a star had reduced to a whine and when he kissed her it stained, stained the color of cherries death and the splatter of a bursted lemon, now orange seeps through and sits. a permanent. a constant. she left him hanging from a tree. One sunny day in mellows eye he awoke to a mirror as a woman cried out to him from the wilted window...he kissed the mirror and a sereneness shone in her eyes, the lips of his orange was sprinkled in black as the depression of the womans soul twisted a knot in her feelings, brining out a kiss in its most rotting form. on the last day of his life in his bed of deaths next episode, he lie there thinking of those kisses, the roses and the putrid, his chattering teeth, invisible to the curtain of his mouths covering, a figure cloacked in screams and echoes enchanted the room, although his eyes filled with desire and his body warmed, and chilled he remain as normal and her lips touched his... as if by suprise he turned red as the enemies eye winks and he turned gray as the moons eyes closed shut...death devoured all skin and flesh leving an asset to admire as his lips fell from the skeleton two women smiled at the window one with twine around her neck with her insaitable red lips raidiant to alls eyes glimmering in the streetlights breath squeezing a bloody daisy, while the other with a glass face dripped ink on her lips and stained a smiling kiss upon the window.
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