Fourteen Models, A Reflective Series
I know why people fall in love with her, like flies dropping on contact with a buzzing electric light. I know, and it’s not because she’s beautiful, which she is, or kind, which I've experienced or intellegent, which is proven. It’s because of the strength, the enormous power that it takes to maintain her fire, her honest view, her purity that lasts no matter what she knows or touches. The people that think this makes her innocent are fools.
I don’t think that everyone who falls in love with her knows the reason; sometimes it’s too subtle a shadow to see.
I want to make her a boy. Again. But this time, I want to find her a nice girl. Someone sweet with large eyes and full lips. I want her in tiny clothes, covered with blood. I want her in fairy wings in some secluded grove. I want her for the cyber-shoot in the ruins of a garden. I want her again, and the wanting puts me in the long line outside her door.
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