She fucks hard. Like the world is ending. Because for her it always is. Ending. She fucks hard. Like God isn't listening. Because he never has.
Dead skin loses her in the twilight. Grim patches of sand in a tempest of sun. One great stark yellow eye staring. Unblinking and distant. One impossibly large grave. To hold it all. Every grin and tear. Every shout and whisper. The whole world coming off in a series of broken masks.
She wears her lovers like costumes. Each one for a different occasion. Delicate kisses in deep dark places. Her touch is manic. Frantic with the need for pleasure. Her lips are glass. Smooth and reflective. Her desire is infectious.
She fucks hard. Like she wants to feel something. But doesn't.
She fucks hard. Like there's no one there. Because no one is.