The pressure of his lips on my forehead, and the grip of his hands on my wrists bruising them instantly, the force of his body cutting into me. His rough eyes kept a deep hold of mine, never giving up on causing me pain. I knew of his dark past of wicked experiences that turned him cold, but it terrified me to the core. The intensity was unbearable at times, and he knew it. He would use it to break anyone down. The demon inside him release, and his eyes become clear like water, his hands let go. Startled at himself he quickly whispered, “I love you. Oh god I really do. Don’t leave, never leave.” I gaze upon his eyes in search of some kind of sanity in them, but I find none. But what I do see is that he’s just nothing better than a beautiful tragedy.
October 22, 2009