The graveyard of my luscious flowers appeared in all its majesty and magnificence, hiding arcane secrets and alluring spells of lost loves that were now just a scatter of dust and blood. My wicked heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been pierced lusciously by devilish ghouls.
In the certitude that no creature loved me but all that I could cherish was the despised portrait of my dreams, which had been buried alive in the graveyard of my luscious flowers. Sweet funeral melodies floated like a gentle winter breeze, making me melt like a snowflake under the sun.
I huddled among the gravestones looking, for a trace of one of my flowers but I searched in vain because I found only slimy earth and ice. I could see shadows peeking out from the dry branches of dead trees, whose roots were soaked in despair and bones.
An exquisite storm ripped me apart and stole my shattered heart, along with all my desires and dreams. I dared to chase all the stars of the night sky; nevertheless, I couldn’t find them because they were not there for me. I had altered into an ethereal entity. I wasn’t alive. I wasn’t dead.
I fantasised about pointed shining swords and crimson incense, whenever a demon would seize me like a disposable porcelain doll. I wasn’t made of blood and bones anymore. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and madness. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made coffin.
I embraced the realm of death and depravity, and like a fierce ghost, I hunted treasure chests with hearts locked inside. Because, I yearned for love and passion, like a flower in the desert craved water. I was an everlasting flame, and I was a frosty blizzard.
I enjoyed being a wicked sorceress, ready to cast evil spells, and finding delight in my graveyard, confiding in my crows, skulls, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting sweet and bitter poisons and sipping the blood of my mortal prey. I swallowed nonsense and fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.
I was disdain and love. I was death and life. I was darkness and light. I was lust and virginity. I was madness and wisdom. I was corruption and purity. I was horror and beauty. I was cruelty and virtue. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.
I was charred alive because of my foolish and insatiable lusts. Having no blood, flesh or bones, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for torture and stupor was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.
The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my blood had been splattered upon the stormy wind and all my bones had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of demons and witches, and embracing the doom became my only dream.
Elisabetta Esther