In a dying format, I await for my darling from the sky. To clench upon as the worlds end is in front of us again. My Veronica where have you been my darling, oh of how I miss your tender white silky skin next to mine. Your starlight eyes looking deep into mine, your hair that brings fever to my manic illness. My darling angel how I yearn to dance with you naked upon the court of graves underneath the gloom shed moon, and take about your deviant sexual desires surrounding the implements of death that secretly silence our sinful acts. To look upon your breasts inside of an artistic abstract, to feel them, so warm, so tender, so pure. A nipple away from thy poetic tongue. To hold your hands and look into you in the most darkest pornographic manner, pushes my fancy just seconds away from organisms. Where art thy Veronica, do you not hear thy desires, are you my Veronica. Or will I endear upon thy thresholds of lonesome unkempt needs to follow. Dear girl do not let my dreams become fantasies, please do not let my love flicker out like a candle.