I.Epilogue
Touch with a scarlet petal to a shivering skin and, sacredly having exclaimed, recoil, compressing in a palm a knife blade. Be not surprised, if white thin silk, enveloping your graceful body, caressing your hips, breast, neck, exciting you more and more, will suddenly become painted in color of your sweet blood. Do not take in head to run from me in the cloudy morning, looking back, breaking barefooted foots by stones, making cold groan of fear. Do not hope that cold embraces of death will accept you without my will …
Be obedient in my cold hands, in fact any resistance will stick more deeply my nails into your warm body. Close your eyes, and enjoy a pain of my kiss and do not shout, when you will sob my tears. Among cold stones, listening to peals of a thunder, enjoying flashes of lightings, do not hope, that I you, at last, have left alone with a night. No! Still pair flashes and you will already bathe at ocean of my fatal passion, intertwining your fingers in my hair and feeling the warm blood which is promptly flowing down from your fingers to your palms, wrists, in fact my hair is a black silver strings, which so gently moved on a wind. Reconcile, that I completely shall take you. Your ideas, your dreams, your memoirs, your movements, a sight, a voice, your body … all of it will be mine!
Tags: Prose
