meanwhile...'s Polyvore

Prada sandals, and a perspex Chanel batwing rucksack.
If only.

she fell to her knees before him,
they bled like the tears of christ.
she had forgotten how nervous he made her,
the sentiment was nice.
 
the rawness of their acquaintance,
at times too stark to see,
beguiled her very being,
her love for monstrosity.
 
the floor was damp and ghostly
she lay too in tranced to rouse,
his weary footsteps left her,
alone in the hallway of their house.
 
she could hear the kitchen stirring,
her monster in a fit,
the air grew dank and humid,
her lover causing it.
 
fog filled the fragile hallway,
the loudening footstep beat,
the monster's frail paw gripped her waist,
as he raised her to her feet.
 
his grating bones bruised with him,
hair long, lank and ashen bland,
his eyes remaining focused on
the body in his hand.
 
now both within the kitchen,
he faintly placed her on a seat.
then kneeling shadowy before her,
his passive eyes looking at her feet.
 
"monster" she finally mustered,
"your tired, and rest is free,
you had to earn your keep at rank,
but now your home with me."
 
deftly he continued staring,
examining her every act,
"you too could do with mending" he whispered
i can see you're not intact
 
removing the coat that framed her,
he uncovered her wounded soul,
the bandages clinging to the being
the nerves, her love, he stole.
 
with agony time had forced on him
the lover's nervous ghost,
and rasping pangs of absence
the monster she longed for most.
 
his humble return was almost over,
and with leering pricks of sin,
he sank his hands into a humid basin
and began to bathe her weakened skin.