Just something I wrote up in a fit, apparently. Careful, language.
I can see myself. Somehow, I don't think I should, but it's like watching a painting, or looking at a movie. I can't tear my eyes away, if I even have them anymore.
I'm pale. I didn't think I was that pale, even in summer. My skin is becoming translucent, paper-like. Maybe it will get so thin that it will just give up and tear, and all of me will come rushing out, spilling across the floor, like the botched victim of an eviscerator. Is that even a word? Maybe not.
It's such a contrast I think. Someone put me in black, I'm not sure who. Black and red, but everyone knows that a redhead's best colors are not black or red. I'm just too fucking pale.
I'm upside down. My neck is exposed, and if there were a vampire near, I would see two small puncture wounds, more red in a sea of alabaster.
There is a vampire near by, but he doesn't feed on blood, exactly.
The necklace is pretty, but it would look better if it were not bunched up around my chin.
I notice belatedly that there is blood trickling from beneath my closed lids, and I feel strange all of a sudden. Something is wrong.
I'm only wearing one earring damn it. Whoever dressed me is fucked up. I don't look like me, I look like a gothic sacrificial victim who's died in a mix of ecstasy and pain. I'm arching off the bed, splayed out, skirt hiked up. There is more red across my stomach and I can't bring myself to care.
I died in the arms of the one I loved, I realize, but he's gone now. Probably smoking outside, he does that. He feeds on my hatred.
I guess I don't have eyes. Or a mouth. Or arms or a neck or legs or a pussy anymore.
What a waste of a life.