Crimson & Amethyst

We can be another closet; we can be another garment. Thus the demise of wearing sentimental clothing.

"Will you keep this dress for her when she becomes of......."

"Yes...."

Lucidity is her name; she is the color pink. I am her cemetery creation; gravestone for a couple crucified for forbidden affection is my conception. I am the cocoa eyes peeking over a full grain leather collar.

"You will wear this dress for me?"

"I suppose.....not now....."

"You will grow......."

"Grow into what?"

"We will see....."

He is extremely cautious of the garment; my blood is a demon comedian. She holds the strings of his preciousness; we entertain ourselves.

"What is the color of yours?"

"Amethyst.........yours must be crimson."

"Yes......dragonflies and full bloom."

"Butterflies and full bloom."

"Does he look at you like...."

"Yes he does...."

We discuss self conscious abysmal death.

"This dress seems less of measurements than when our dearest adorned."

"Yes I noticed this as well."

"They are with greater expectations than first perceived."

"Well I am not willing to be an expectation just yet; we are not dresses."

"No we are not but I really want to wear it!"

"Me too just for hell's sake but I don't want them to see it."

"I like yours...."

"I like yours......"

Split worlds for whole earth.

Damned computers........