The first Prose in the Maggot Queen series.
So beautiful, my Anastasia.
Pallid flesh, white like snow,
Lips once corpulent and crimson, now thin and mute,
Her once bright and sparkling eyes, now cold and milky,
So elegant, my Anastasia,
Her sallow face glows in the morning light.
A kiss, I think, Just one last kiss.
In vain I think such, for the Maggot Queen's perfume is upon her.
On her cold lips are the signs of the Queen,
Cold, dry, and pale.
In silence She waits to swallow my bride,
A bloated, monstrous thing She is.
Rotting tendrils bursting forth like some seed of hell,
To constrict around my lover and consume her naked flesh.
Let the Maggot Choir break forth with song,
My Anastasia goes to her new home.
Anastasia, my Anastasia.