Peepshow Ruffles

She is as she wished; as she risked our love for. Trapped forever in that damned, papery hell.

Immortality. Smothering painful immortality. She lies a prisoner in the minds of those who saw, scattered across the pages of a novel so dear. She cannot die, she cannot leave.

Her blazing hair still set alight by compassion, the sparkling diamond glimmering as if she had fallen from the midnight enchantment. Ocean eyes. Luscious, ruby lips of deceit.

Oh, Satine... I still hold your lifeless figure in a tender embrace. Not a moment has passed since I supported the broken bones of your fragile body upon my humble knee. Time has passed. Seconds, minutes, hours. Yet we remain, grasping each other's mask, unable to part from a lover's smile.

Our lips forever entwined in a cruel fate. An angel's kiss. A kiss that will never fade, seeming as if angels had tattooed the shape of your lustrous mouth upon mine.

Though, my love, I feel that my endless torture will soon cease to exist, as I have found love elsewhere than your bleak corpse, disintegrating softly into moldy flakes of glitter.

Your gentle kiss disintegrates, as the cold sensation of whisky-stained glass tingles on my lips.

I am loved by this infectious heartache, the chilling blood of sweet lady liquor.

Indeed, my darling Satine, your prayers have been answered. Our tale engraved forever, completing all recollection of the time we endured together. Through this typewriter, idolized forever. Heroes. Forever and ever.

We could be heroes, forever and ever.

Glancing back at his typewriter, the desolate poet cursed his rampant heart and the agony that it caused.