Coldest Heaven

Set up on a pedestal for the highest bidder’s delight.

Light reds painted on her plump lips with pink blush on her cheeks, skin so olive pale… Her long silky locks lay to the left, Dim lights. Classical ballet of melodies.

With a lost void in her eyes… She looks through the world of glass, Suitors observed in black and white.

They bid and beg, They observe, They want control. Striking eyes. Expensive taste.

Yet she’s but a living lucid dream… Lifeless on a pedestal, It gets colder by the light.

Coldest heaven, A different reality for her…than him. She’ll hold your heart till it’s risen, Help your dying soul keep hold. Giving into the power of suiters desired thirst.

Her magnetic gaze will help you see how cold and dead inside you truly are. Do you feel it? Do you see it? Her death is in your hands.

Only for the high status of demands,

Is the luxury of far fetch tales for the royals of 1700’s…

Set up on a pedestal, long locks draping over her olive pale skin, Watching her cold heaven through glass…

Coldest Heaven…

Her admirer’s linger to watch her lose they’re grip of greedy needs… They’ll bleed, as she’s loosen from they’re finger tips.

A lucid dream different from reality…

Coldest heaven.