Hoshor Plains [m] when the lights go out and i'm all alone again

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And oh, god, have him she would.
Raw, pink flesh, open wounds that sing with the pain of existing, and yet none of it matters. She would sink once more into being his doll, his virgin, and whatever else he may want her to be. 
The flames have all but consumed any rational mind. With all the urgency in the world, she kisses him wherever her mouth can reach, uttering tiny whines that are only for his ears. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 
She mouths a please, the etching of letters drawn atop his skin. Make me forget.