palette

#FF0000

the anger radiating off your body as your stormed out of the house and into the pouring rain

the newly purchased tight dress barely covering your chest and thighs as your burst into the club, your hair still limp and soggy from the downpour outside

the lights on the dance floor flashing to the beat of the loud electronic music

your martini with a small cherry fitted on the rim of the glass to make the drink look more appealing and less harmless — the purest form of sin

the burning sensation in your throat that seemed to engulf your own body as you gulped down tequila shots of fiery passion

the immediate attraction towards him when you laid eyes on him, just like a moth entranced by an open flame

the mixture of danger and thrill as he approached you step by step

the warning bells that resounded in your already pounding head yet you still bit your lip to pull him in

the warmth you felt when he wrapped his arms around your waist

even though his proximity gave you chills, his whisper in your ear ignited a strong want for him

desperate kisses as you both stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep balance while trying to maintain the tension

fiery passion mixed with loud profanities filled the silence of the dark room, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight that peeped through the thick curtains

the euphoria you felt when he entered you — how it was so much better than any alcohol you had ever downed, as you believed you were both deeply in love for that night

the comfort mixed with caution that overcame you when you were pressed up against his chest with his arms safely around you, him assuring you that he would see you in the morning

the frustration you felt as you gripped your hair and screamed when you realised that the other half of the bed was gone, and the sun had not yet risen

but you felt hopeful again, when you looked at the bedside table and saw his number scribbled on a piece of scrap paper

the excitement coursing through your veins as you entered his world, and he, yours, during your midnight escapades — it was the best time for you because he made you forget who you were

the tinted lenses you wore whenever you looked up at him adoringly, never wondering why he had not brought you out in public

the blood that dripped slowly from your lines on your thighs as you berated yourself for feeling so dirty, so used; for retreating back into this vicious cycle despite having known that even though he was your world, you were never even a part of his

the indignation, embarrassment and fury you felt when you saw the large ruby on a woman's finger — and from the way he slung his arm over her shoulders, you knew that the ring would have been yours

your heart on the floor when it finally hit you that he was taken — not that he was ever yours to begin with

∞

dedicated to bandarchy. thank you for supporting my stuff. it means a lot to me. :)

completed: 11 september 2015

(sorry for the one year wait.)