golden strings

Her sight had come initially; a dithering pallid of floral skin and peeled flesh to reveal hoary diety – a sick perfection all burnt and grazed raw by a fault within the glow of her genetics. Time is no burden to a phantom of fabled imagine; innards slow and in an eternal state of rotting hibernation as a ticking sage mulls over enticing decision. He is no ghoul of sex; though the babe before him bristles appeal and coils low beneath his psyche, he is not aroused by her beauty but rather interested - captivated. 

Some time may linger between them; the obscured spectre unseen beyond a pocket of swayed foliage. And her crown may shift, as though the cherry-eyed darling can sense the bristling of his loiter beneath such guiltless ( unadulterated ) flesh. But a fleeting moment of her shifting awareness and the stealthy Armada shall choose to reveal his creep within the aintest of shifts; silently seeking to present his supernatural influx ahead of her right side - a ghost of her past.