Has there been a lapse of years. I will tell thee how many.
Was I merely cherishing a moment of respite on the ceiling. Oh, may I consent to swear to hath thee not discard me truth.
'Tis the same concrete - grey and black with pebbles and crusts of cement.
Were mym ankles bare and feet too. They touched the rugged surface, right by the skin of my toes.
Tiny nails on the fingers, tiny even in sight - were they all accompanying the action.
Alas! oh the owner of my reverence! Oh saviour of mine in numbers with hands that sought the path of vein under my skin! Alack! hit me a wind, kissing the much was that divested of a cover.
There, how harsh the lips! Might I even prefer a lie, aiding an acceptance of what was.
There, were two scars etched right on my thighs as unfolded the lips the teeth on the flesh.
There! oh God! there I saw. Hark. Oh thou ruffian, must thee hark this excerpt.
Alas! grisly, grisly! Hark what beheld I as stooped I my head under the desk.
Thy fingers all gory and yet whining 'moreish' as they sank right there.
Was it no kiss of tenderness, let alone a soft touch. I perceived a colossal catastrophe in my mind for were thy hands not there in another blink....