A delectable debutante thanking you kindly – her perfect patchwork eye.
 
The tussle, the turn, the twist of her silver-gilded knife.
 
Life to be sent-i-mentally usurped – disturbed – yet savoured a fair while… thinking about you mildly for now til our nerve-endings.
 
Silver-lining penitentiary, wherein she kissed his frettled upper lip – adolescent peppermint beer-breath smile and I’ll be missing you distinctly. Baby. 
 
Press your manicured hands against his beating, seething chest again and hope for a hostile reawakening
 
Maybe, baby?
Say it with violence-d silence one last time.
 
Why, though?
Whisper it kindly, oh so very fucking mildly, please… because soon, he won’t be listening to you any more than the next great elated neanderthal which sniffs beneath his salutary, circulatory nose.
Supposedly so, you posed a threat before he caught and captured your very last breath.