..and when her silence was shattered, the splinters pierced the Abyss; lighting the embers with her madness..
Gather the tendrils as they dance through the shadows, and tangle them in repetition against your fist. Listen as the sweetest desolation plays as a symphony against the screams. Their melody sways beneath the whispers of a haunting smile, torn at the edges, and laced with the corsets of the pristine little souls bathed in ivory..
Pull them tighter..
Bind them to the rings against the Monster’s teeth..
Gracious door traced in ivy that swirls, lit by a shell with a dying flame still bracing itself against the hollows. Enter carefully, wistfully, as though your toes were tracing the sand in the storm brewing ahead and behind what can’t be held. What can’t be followed.
Shut the door behind you..
Flick the lock and mark the edges with secrets shed..
There’s a sheet where the girl with the stitched joy used to rest, lain in heaps, and folded at the center just so. Just at the ends where the folds are slit, and the curtains are drawn to keep the curious within. The answers hacked of assumptions are under the floorboards, and the ghosts of the present are boxed away with the Kay beneath the bed. Upon the bedpost. The knob against the ground where the roots are twisted and knarled to hold the dollhouse against the counter..
Marble never felt so smooth..
Trace the misconceptions till they are welcomed at the treasures keep..
Ecnelis met the binds with a smile, and in basking beneath the fallacies of anxiety; she was faced with her future.
She was faced with herself in the mirror of the Dollhouse.
Silence slipped from the constrictions of freedom, and from the ashes of sheer distinction rose who she’s always been.
It’s a pleasure to meet you all.
He calls me His Kitten, now.