He laid he hands on her.
Once, twice. She lost count of the times.
It was a touch she hadn't known. She told herself she liked it, wanted it, welcomed it.
But in truth she had never known kindness before, so somehow the softness of his palms frightened her more than a closed fist. More than a sharp-toothed kiss.
She wanted him to tear at her skin, to hate her, to damn her skin black and blue. She wanted to bleed, for him.
It was the only love she knew.
DU LIEST GERADE
𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋
PoesieThis love was cast cruel, this love was not kind. But in all, she still loved him. For with him, love was blind. Poems for the damned. If I am to be hurt, then so must you. Copyright © TheFallOfArtemis
