Sometimes you catch yourself in the mirror, and the peach and coral of your upper lip or the accented shadow of your cheekbone will make you stop and stare in wonder at that beautiful creature staring back at you.

You cover all the mirrors with tapestries and landscapes and secrets, hating your reflection.

You put up your hair in silk and ribbons, threading it with jewels, a glittering crown. Ruby for your parted lips and the blush of your cheek, emerald and jade to sparkle with your eyes, amethyst and sapphire because you believe they are magical. You line kohl around your eyes and darken your lashes, and stain your lips with fresh berries.

You wear diamonds around your neck, and opals on your wrists, white on white.
Dress in willowy skirts from a time far removed; white, black, red. A breeze will breathe and flutter behind you and you walk on water as an angel would, ready to accept your wings. Ribbons wind around your arms, comfortable shackles, silk that gently cuts your circulation.

The sky will be murky when your eyes are downcast, and the sunsets are all the more vibrant when you look up. It is your lashes that paint the sky orange and purple, pink and midnight blue. It is your breath that lights the stars in the sky and your hands that orchestrate the transition from the colors of dusk to velvet midnight.

You don't smile or cry, for you would be ruined.

Sacred.

The sky would bleed for you, if you wanted it to.

Author's Note: It's lovely to be back and clogging up the site once more. You know the drill ... I'm an absolute whore, so review me. But keep the pointless flames to yourself, or I will shove them up your bloody arse. (And trust me, it will be bloody.) Have a nice day!

Love and angst,
Vivica