She is a thief with many guises, an artist of considerable talent. She comes, sometimes, with a gentle caress, like the lightest of breezes, a brush of rose-scented hair across your cheek, to draw you slowly away into her empty embrace. She comes, sometimes, with promises of treats and assorted goodies, a trail of hollow breadcrumbs that leads you deeper into the darkened woods where she lairs. She comes, sometimes, more forcefully, tugging at your sleeve, your trousers, your ears, your heart, demanding your attention, your adoration, your supplication. She is a thief with many guises - she is an experienced and familiar lover, an enticing new prospect, an adorable child with an infectious personality. She comes each time, intently, insistent, and inexplicably you follow her, as you lead her down to where you keep your most sacred treasures. And as her arms wrap ever tigher around you, her fingers reach down into your soul, and draw out the most precious hours of your life. And as the sand slowly falls out from your hourglass in cascades of gold, she bathes in it, delightedly, coldly and beautifully, immortal.
- Adrian
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