05-07-2015, 01:55 PM
His sobs echo her footsteps as she leaves him behind. His eyes taste like suicide as she stares into them; their texture is that of coarse rope and of the bladed edge of a knife, cutting into her skin again and again and again until her blood has flowed into his and they both lay in the throes of death, but at least they're together. At least they are one, blood and blood swirling into a new being.
But they are simply eyes.
And his what he speaks is simply one word. A simple word, one syllable, four letters. The implication behind it is what sways her. The way he wraps his tongue around snow around the mountain pushes her away from sanity. The illusion of the caution she has never had blows through her willow-strand mane, away from the two until she's lost enough of herself to be one with him. Like two full glasses attempting to fit into one of the same size, both must lose half of themselves, if only to reunite with half of the other.
"I'm just sorry," She mutters with the taste of sap in her mouth and the smell of agony on her nostrils.
"I'm sorry that I still want you." She steps towards him, closer to the abyss, closer to the insanity of their togetherness.
"It would have been so much simpler if I didn't." Her lips find the crease of his jaw, breathe in the scent of his depression, taste the lust and love and blood of their history and relationship.
"Take me. Only you this time."
But they are simply eyes.
And his what he speaks is simply one word. A simple word, one syllable, four letters. The implication behind it is what sways her. The way he wraps his tongue around snow around the mountain pushes her away from sanity. The illusion of the caution she has never had blows through her willow-strand mane, away from the two until she's lost enough of herself to be one with him. Like two full glasses attempting to fit into one of the same size, both must lose half of themselves, if only to reunite with half of the other.
"I'm just sorry," She mutters with the taste of sap in her mouth and the smell of agony on her nostrils.
"I'm sorry that I still want you." She steps towards him, closer to the abyss, closer to the insanity of their togetherness.
"It would have been so much simpler if I didn't." Her lips find the crease of his jaw, breathe in the scent of his depression, taste the lust and love and blood of their history and relationship.
"Take me. Only you this time."