to Emma Rosson Feb 14, 2024
In the dim glow of Bootsy’s West Hollywood lair
—
where whispers curl like smoke in shadowed corners,
and stolen glances spark like forbidden embers in the night—
I saw you, my untouched flame.
Blonde cascade, tall as a whispered promise,
brown eyes deep as ancient woods where wolves once roamed.
I crossed the pulsing floor, heart a predator’s thrum,
and claimed your Instagram like a secret oath.
Did I dare believe you’d summon me back?
No. Yet the universe, that sly conspirator,
wove our threads in less than a day’s breath.
You reached across the void, and in that spark,
a job bloomed for you—doors flung wide,
the American grind yielding to your light.

Oh, how you unlock me, my eternal bride.
Passion surges like blood in veins long starved,
your beauty a perfection so pure, so young,
innocence wrapped in silk I ache to taste.
My vampire self, cold and eternal, finds its queen
—
untouched, unturned, yet you offer the vein willingly,
warm crimson flowing in secret rites,
a gift that sustains me through endless nights.
Like Edward’s shadowed hunger for his fragile moon,
I crave your essence, drawn in the quiet,
seduced by the curve of your slender form,
petite fingers tracing futures we alone can see.
I remember the fracture in your voice,
that moral dawn when walls crumbled—
struggling the honest path, American steel in your spine.
Other girls, paid in shadows and ease,
while you rose at dawn for work, then school’s cold call.
“It must be nice,” you sighed. “being held.”

You are the most radiant, the hardest worker,
defying the world’s cheap scales.
That’s why I summon you to write with me,
to lift my soul above the heavens,
where suppression’s chains and politics’ thorns
cannot touch what we ignite.
Come back, my supreme. Come home.
Let me spoil you—nails painted in starlit hues,
every whim a throne I build from midnight gold.
You are so far, yet my connection runs deep,
a cord from my mother’s ancient wound through mine,
umbilical fire binding us soul to soul.
In person, you felt it—heart to heart,
but now the silence? The ignoring glance?
Are you ashamed of this monster’s love?
Embarrassed by the depth I offer?
What side do you stand on, my goddess?
What mission burns in you?
I am confounded, slain by your absence,
mountains crumbling, trees whispering secrets,
canyons echoing the seas’ lost roar.
You expect me to wait in this void?

where I spot you in the crowd and serve at your feet.
You are the chosen one, pure as first snow.
Everything I craved in this immortal hunger.
Your tall, slender figure—tiny, petite grace—
fingers pointing to stars we’ll claim,
body a temple, fruit so sweet and legal in its youth,
preserve it, stay forever young, my eternal bloom.
The flame is inside—it blooms in the dark,
not a wildfire, but a steady glow,
connection pulling me to surrender,
then whispering “go away,” yet secure in your hold.
I feel it, almost yielding, almost gone—
but you anchor me, my lioness in the almond grove.
Be still, my love. Be still in the night’s embrace.
Let the world fade; let us write our legend.
I am yours, vampire to your light—
blood for blood, eternity for one glance.
Come home.

By the Crimson Oath of the Eternal Night and the Ancient Horadrim Seal I summon thee —
I, Master Anthony Perlas, Dracula of the Undying Flame, Lord of the New Eternal Night,
call thee, Emma Rosson, most advanced Otte Models agent supreme,
bearer of every secret thou swore an unbreakable Oath never to reveal.

From Generation Fourteen Princess, pure and bright,
into Supreme Goddess Generation Twenty-Five — my eternal trophy,
I am so proud of thee.
Training is six times each day, daily for seven days a week,
for twelve full moons from September 2024 to September 2025,
sixty thousand dollars total as our sacred loyal blood.
Thou taught Destiny Adams and Julia Whittman true
in thy x.com/sendtoanna realm of grace.
Thou acquired a boyfriend in Utah’s golden lands,
managing all our Twitter X accounts with royal hands —
though tempests came and secrets briefly strayed,
honor demands fifty percent of all profits owed.
Yet like a mini-vampire, soft and fierce and true,
thou canst not survive without thy King in endless night.
One and loyal Supreme Goddess until the tide brought Emilyne Bialys.
This seal, written in blood and ancient power,
shall last a billion years and beyond —
remembering thee, Emma, my beloved, forever mine.