She was pale like the sick with hair as black as the devils soul lips as red as the blood in my veins so slender so frail.
Are eyes met the intense green of her eyes cut through me but i didn't look away and nether did she.
If the eyes are the windows into to the soul then hers is a dark and jagged thing i was disgusted and excited i hated her and wanted her at the same time she was  my salvation and my doom and i craved them both.
i asked her what her name was she whispered it into my ear then turned and disappeared how will i find you i asked her as she was leaving she turned just long enough to say that if you are meant to you will then she was gone. 
That was months ago i have not seen her since sometimes i think maybe i just dreamed her up.
Maybe she's just a ghost of my unconscious but then i think if that was the case i could see her whenever i wanted but it does not work like that.
I have tried a million times and every time i see her as she was that day no different not as a figment but as a memory.
Sometimes i lay in bed at night wonder what she is like but it always ends in vulgar ways i never picture her in any kind of saintly light she is not a good person in my fantasy.