Lilith, Proserpine, Venus by K. S. Keeney
Straighten the nose and push together the soft rosebud lips. Brush, with a touch hardly there, the auburn locks. Make sure her eyes are a little limpid, will you? Not wistful enough, needs more tortured longing. Is she soft enough? Put some fat in the jawline. Is this to be accusation? She gets the sharp […]
Continue Reading