All I ever wanted was the world.

Does it bother you?

That their eyes watch my tail? My dark mane makes you envious of the loyal army of Marilyn's kneeling around my ankles. Does the curve of my waist upset you? Do you think about my lips past sundown? Because they fill the dreams of the one lying next to you and he hasn't shut up in his sleep for weeks.

Your heart slows to a stop in rhythm with my heels at your door. You must be terrified. You're pounding at my band of male followers and even I get tired of all the grapes they feed me. Seriously, being fed grapes by the gods is a full time gig. I mean this is exhausting.

Wine. I need a white wine.

Okay, no, I'm not all talk, but I won't lie either. Only because it isn't your fault- the torturing affect I have on the wishes you make blowing out your candles.

I'm not as tall as the photos but my eyes see clear past your throat. I can't dance like his ALL night. I do need naps. But the bags under my eyes are prada.

Sometimes, when it's really late and I haven't had my sleep syrup, I let my diamond fans sink into my lips. The rose colored, penny flavored, rust scented river drips from the veins I kiss my mother with and stains your sheets a black red.

Does that bother you?

Diamond Fangs,
Miss Carter