Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Fire and Moonlight

Fire and Moonlight

"Her touch is as soft as the light of the moon on my face. Her anger burns me like the fires of hell. She is my sun, she brings me life, warms me when I am cold. She is my moon, she guides my way through the darkness. To that deepest dark where I may adore her, in her temple of the night."

He made this and wrote the verse. I think it's sweet. I may be his sun and his moon, but I think he's my lithium.

You know? A cheap, metallic salt which at first doesn't do anything for you at all, but which eventually makes it easier for everyone else to live with you.

I love it! This one was worth putting up with another round of his "No, hold your mouth like this please your highness?" and "I know the wig is uncomfortable, but just a little longer please?" Until my patience is exhausted, then of course there's a lot of begging for mercy, screaming and crying. The usual. He pretends to be much more fragile and delicate than he actually is, 

For a change he didn't get so carried away with the postwork that my skin doesn't look like plastic. And I like the backdrop a lot. The wig is as black as my heart, or my hair, but for some reason it looks kind of brown in the finished product.

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