It's Always Darkest Before The Ultimate Sparkle.

It's Only His Thumb Brushing Slowly Across The Lower Edge Of My Lip, But It's As If Time Slows And The Sweep Of That Thumb Below My Mouth Takes Forever. It Is No Spell That I Know Of, But It Holds Such Magic, I Can Scarcely Breath. He Pulls His Hand Away Fast, Aware Of What He's Done. But His Touch Lingers.

Clothing Left On The Bed Unfolded. Books Stained With Coffee Spots. Tabs Not Paid Until The Last Possible Second. Boys Kissed And Then Forgotten In A Week’s Time.

...i Do Have To Wonder What Sort Of Childhood The Grimm Brothers Endured. They Are Not A Merry Bunch Of Storytellers, What With Their Children Roasted By Witches, Maidens Poisoned By Old Crones, And Whatnot.

You Are Truly Satan's Sequined Spawn.

I Don't Think You Should Die Until You're Ready. Until You've Wrung Out Every Last Bit Of Living You Can.