oh, my darling, you misunderstand me terribly. this remaking, the crossing of the border from doll to puppet, from servant to instrument, is not a punishment; nay, it is a privelege, the highest i may bestow. to be emptied, at last, of paltry will, that you may play gracious host to the coruscating sublime - to be rendered useful as the limbs of my body are useful, precious as a lock of my hair is precious, loved as my own flesh is loved - to know that the wine-coloured string of your fate is knotted about my finger, forevermore -- what recognition of your service could be sweeter, little thing, bird-in-the-cage-of-my-heart?
beloved possession
- she or it, as you please
this one draws and writes, when it can.
patience is appreciated, responses are precious.
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