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We are different, you and I. While I'm the reflection of your madness that you've left, you are the reflection of the calm that I once had. That could be a reason why I am drawn to you- you have the composure that I once did. A part of me, you've locked away from me. I can sense it there but I can't quite reach it.
We are the same, you and I. We want the same things from each other. We want to break each other and exhilarate each other, poison ourselves with what we have. Sweet poison.
"Your turn," I moan as I shudder.
Excitement coursing through my veins, I've tasted you enough but not yet. I want more.
The sheets are gory and red but it doesn't matter because so are we. My skin is raw and angry red but don't worry, that's not how I feel.
Our love is purer than the rest.
Our love is not cliche.
Cliches are dead thoughts that want to possess the living. Maybe that's why people can't find just love. Maybe that's why I fought you for so long- because I was a victim of cliches too. It is so easy to let things happen. I don't understand why people fight.
How many people would've lost love because they thought it wasn't cliche? All those romantic movies, those chick-flicks, they influence us. They tell us that love is normal. That it should be peaceful.
I laugh at them.
Who is to decide what love is?
Society?
Who gave them the right to do that? Why should we bend to their will?
Because they're a mob? A crowd? How does that make anything right?
The natural order is chaos- like how I feel when you graze your tongue on my raw lips. What we have between us, you and I, this, I think it is love. Love sealed with blood.
Our love is as it is.
And it is love, no doubt.
I want to feel your broken skin but I can't get myself to move away from you.
What I love about you- your eyes, your nose, your hair, your lips, your neck, your hands, your arms, your stomach, your chest, your thighs, your legs, and the ravishing heaven between your them.
Let me warn you, my love, it runs deeper than your physical traits.
I love how manipulative you are. I love how you locked me up like a pet, made me aware of my natural instincts. I love how you brought me to my knees. I love how you tore me from my old life.
I love the new me.
The one you made from scratch.
When I look at you again, I realize that your neck is clean, bloodless, only little bitemarks that I had left. It doesn't make me feel happy. Then I remember, that if I paint on you, I would choose purple. I rejoice because your neck is a plain canvas, lay bare in front of me.
I've never tried ecstasy, but I swear if I did, this is what I would feel.
Don't bruises turn deep purple? A shadow whispers behind me.
My breath is stuck in my throat as I wrap my hand around yours. The purple will look amazing on you, my muse.
Confusion clouds my mind as your eyes grow wide and you look at me as if you are terrified. I don't understand why you start to throw your arms, you try to hurt me by digging your nails into my raw skin.
"You'll look beautiful, my love," I say to stop your protest, "my muse, I promise."
And you comply. Your head falls back as your eyes roll. Your hands fall on the sheets.
Look at your masterpiece, the thought passes my mind. I withdraw my hands and see beautiful purple marks on your dainty neck. It was beyond beautiful. There's something about you that makes me feel I am an artist, the best. Nothing has ever looked quite as lovely as the purple ring around your neck.
It's natural.
You're natural.
"I told you you'll look beautiful," I beam proudly at you.
It soon turns into a frown when you don't respond.
I whisper seductively, "Would you like to do that to me?"
You don't respond.
You went too far, I tell myself. Panic surges through my blood. You can't leave me here, alone. Remember when I told you are my reflection? How can one live without it? Darkness akin to death looms around me. You are no longer there to light my way. I am lost. I have lost.
Betrayal and rage deafen me as they brew toxicity inside me. "How dare you leave me!" I yell as I punch your lifeless chest.
Who is going to warm my bed?
Funny things, my emotions are. One moment they're up and the next they are down. I find myself drowning in tears. I fell hollow, weightless, nothing left of you.
