Submitting

Antonym

The world is not fair. To me, it was not a knowledge newly acquired and yet somehow it never really failed to astonish me to see how farther that line of limit could be drawn. When it hits, I think that this is bad and nothing could be worse than now, but I get proven wrong every time. A loop, a vicious cycle that provides hope only to tear it away.

She moved away.

Left me.

How could she?

The pain in my chest still alive since the day I got to know how she ran away without a spare thought to the consequences that might await. A soul so shy and timid, how did that fire ignite in her that too her away from me? Even before I could hold her, touch her, let her know that I exist.

Her brown eyes, so warm, so soft, so innocent that I could drown myself in them forever and never have the urge to come up. I'd happily be breathless. That privilege though, I had to have only once. A taste that I thought would last forever, a moment frozen. If only...that was possible.

Her hair so soft, free and full of flight even if chained down by her family. I could see the breath that they had held down. Freedom, they so eagerly desired but never got to savour. My fingers itched to run through them and feel the cool calamity that laid underneath the tucked hair tie.

Her skin glimmered in the dimmest of lights. Such smooth and freckled perfection. Pale and ripe. Oh, what I would give to smack it raw and see the blood rush through in anxious gallops. An imprint or a creation. My very own canvas to play with.

Her lips. I couldn't even imagine to express what they made me feel. Those thin red cracks on plump flesh. Like the petals of the Rose, when the dews their scent disclose. Soft as velvet tho' they be, fragrant of the Dawn and thee. Yet thy lips are sweeter far, than all garden Roses are. Charles William Cayzer might have somewhat succeeded in coming close to describing what was ineffable in words.

Her shoulders, her arms, her hands, her fingers, her legs, thighs, toes, the small scar on her collar bone, a few peppered moles on her body that toyed with me, teased me often and finally she herself. It was a massacre. A killing machine devised and created just for me. Jailer, torturer, thief, robbing me body and soul. The exclusive taste I craved like no other.

And she left.

Like I didn't even exist in her world. Or maybe she was pretending to be blind to the electricity we felt that first night she saw me. First for her, twenty-second for me. I saw her there, sitting on the windowsill, and she saw me, standing out of the shadows for her. To tell her that I exist and that I knew her more than anyone ever would.

I remember the little frown on her forehead as she looked at me inquisitively. Not expecting anyone to look at her at all especially because she thought that she didn't exist, her family didn't let her. Yet in my world, she was the only thing that lived at all. A spark of light that I couldn't overlook.

And just like that she looked away, like I was a lie. The intense air between us was as well.

The keyword being 'like'.

I knew better. Her soft shy nature and her anxiety ridden self, wondering why someone would notice her especially when she made the effort to be unnoticeable. She had made a move from the life of the party, living room, to the quiet and unattended study for the sole intention of being invisible. It worked on the oblivious others but not me. My soul seeking her and her only.

She looked away and stared out the window, surely hoping for me to leave. I knew how much she liked being alone, and I really liked that about her. If only she would have let me be a part of it as well.