Monday, 14 February 2011

My Bloody Valentine

Used to be a time when boys would send me offerings of real hearts in boxes for this day. I assumed they were some kind of animal's, easier.

I'd smile graciously, how lovely darling, you must really care. I'd take it in my mouth, bite gently, allow the metallic crimson to run down my face, and they'd crush their teeth into my lips until my own blood ran hot.

Now, if a man wants to give me a gift, he serves me up my own heart, sliced out cleanly, still beating in his hand. Ah, angel, you mean you really don't care? Thank you, oh thank you...

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