On that day, when they covered you with jewelry of the most exquisite sort, and branded you with diamonds, and rubies, and with pearls and opals. On that day your hair was the most astonishing, in ages, and one just couldn't distinguish exactly between the shades and luster of all gold, and dark tissues, in carbon, and in finest nylon, made of silk.
And inside the richness of that cacophony your voice, it was, singing away, as in the dream, upon your fine tickly hands and fingers touching upon the crystal cups and making sounds to circumvent reality of who you really are.
That song, my love, is still engraved d to the bottom of my heart. In hearts of rubies.
And I do, still, wake up, as from the horror and those nightmares, when reaching out, and screaming, for your hand, and name, in nights that are most lonesome, loathsome, dark. And each time I do awake, my nose is bleeding and my ear is pierced.
Bite me! Please. Again!