Me on Poemhunter

Hey guys if you want to check out my poems on poemhunter that would be awesome! Here's the link:
http://www.poemhunter.com/gabrielle-fleming/

Preface (To My Novel)

JUST STARTED THIS:

Organs fill my ears as I wake up amidst another day of life. The music brings me to rise, as I revel in its dark loveliness, the epitome of death, which seems so beautiful. He is so beautiful. My Mr. T. My Sweeney Todd.  They may tell me that he is not mine, that he is not real. But who are they? How dare they defy me. As Machiavelli once said, it is better to be feared than love. They may fear me, but I do not care. I am already loved enough by the man that means everything. That IS everything. He is Sweeney Todd, and I am Miss Lovett.

                Mrs. Lovett was the past, I am Miss Lovett, the perfect reincarnation. I never believed in reincarnation until I had a vision. Some may refer to it as a fanciful dream, but it was a vision, I’m sure. Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street, came to me at midnight and bid me come with him. As soon as he was to slit my throat with his wonderfully engraved razor I snapped awake, but not in fear. The look in his eyes was nothing but pure love. Twisted, sick, magical love that I wanted and had for him so badly. We were truly caught in a bad romance, and that, made me satisfied.

                Tim Burton’s 2007 film of Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street starring Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter became the sun, and I was in its orbit. I learned everything there was to learn about Sweeney Todd and his bloody accomplice. Every morning I wrote their address, 186 Fleet Street, on the inside of my wrists. In school, I lost my attention span. I spent hours in Algebra doodling little caricatures of me and Sweeney holding hands on the ocean shore. Nothing mattered anymore. Some would call it obsession, infatuation. I call it destiny.

                Back then, I was merely twelve, and all my crimes were those of foolishness. Now I have considerable time on my hands and the voice and pure perfection of Sweeney Todd deserves to be heard. At best he is an angel, at worst a demon. In heaven, let the angel sing, in hell let the demon ring.

                The movie sleeps underneath my bed, and the soundtrack is on my iPod, and I am persistent in it always being with me. Without it I feel that there is a vat in my soul that is missing. A part of my heart is never complete without him.

                Poems and poems can be found about him, perhaps I shall publish some of them. There is a boy involved. Poor child. The fated encompassment of all I’ve ever dreamed of. Of all I’ve ever wished for.

HAVE YET TO COME UP WITH A TITLE! ;)

Please tell me you are in love with this as much as I am?