HER EYES WERE SO GREEN.
The color of forest green sadness, the kind that shook his bones and sent shivers down his crooked spine. Those eyes had haunted his dreams for months, and he had been craving this moment for far too long.
Her lips were the color of wine- or blood, but he didn't notice this at the moment. And when she pressed them to his, they tasted of raw, wild-hearted addiction. Alcohol, he concluded, alcohol ran threw her veins.
Her skin was pale, smooth to the touch. Her fingertips traced patterns and words never to be revealed upon his flesh, binding him to her, but not her to him. She rose goosebumps and hopes, he raised confidence and cruelty within her.
"Isn't it strange," she said between a passion filled (from his end) kiss, he was far too engrossed within her wildly pleasing taste to realize she had even spoken.
"How we crave the things-" another kiss.
"That hurt us, the most?" It was a rhetorical question of course. He didn't answer, he was lost within the possibilities, counting the stars and loosing sight of the moon. He was another victim to a beautiful girl who knew such cruelty and wanted revenge upon the heartbreakers.
She had him thinking she was an angel, sent down from the pearly white gates of heaven above.
He, my dear, was wrong.
YOU ARE READING
bones
Randomi wrote this when i thought love was the look in his eyes rather than mine.
