Black window, angelic black to the depths of death.
A love light years away, all porcelain heart and red regret.
The power of the night is the one for us, blood and Monday Blues.
Welcome to this vampy paradise covered in a black veil.
Portrait of Miss Strange on May Day holding a rose red.
Madame of the Salon who walks at night or a Countess.
A bride who is used to the violence of summer darkness.
Snow White was always a strange fascination wrapped in leather and feather.
Solemn perverse serenity in black, mind-controlling destiny.
A dancing star, a gothic mistress, madness and beauty.
Silver linings abound; watch me, balanced, and I want to believe.
No longer hiding gothic insecurities, huntress behind the scenes.
Dreaming the power of nature, a king’s path to the Northern Lights.
Pushing through the market square is the power of night.
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