You are my Botticelli Venus emerging from the canvas alive and breathing, the Madonna incarnate. My female spirit feels your femininity. The aura of ...our womanliness fills my aching female body with a familiar hunger drawing me like a magnet. My heart seeks the little death when our souls merge. Our marriage is to be consummated in this church of desire. Your pastel cheeks are angelic, as your emerald eyes gaze up at me. Your ochre curls cascade down your bird delicate shoulders. Your creamy. During the course of our talks, she had never inquired of the reason that I had to defend her from another of my kind, or why I had been a steadfast presence in her life since her early years. I knew she was curious, but I suspected she already knew the answer; that she was possibly one of the marked, and that my intentions were not pure. She listened to me describe my leaving with eyes downcast. My words felt heavy and fell to the ground like leaden statues of tiny birds. Suddenly I was. More

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