Celestial Confessions

Nyx

One time I saw the night. She came to me in a dream; a dream so real a pinch couldn't wake me up from it. She seemed to be made of skin and bones. skin hung off her body like clothes on a hanger, skin so pale that blue veins tinted her complexion ever caesious, skin that chills the depth of your core on contact, but leaves you wanting her touch so much more. Her bones fell perfectly into place with each step--her movements were so elegant it was almost eerie. Bones were prominent against her pale skin, evident in her skinny wrists, sharp cheeks, and jutting collarbones. Oh how desirable she was; skin and bones, a beating heart and a pair of blue eyes.

The night was like a cool drink of water, pressed gently to your lips going down and down your burning throat; a cool stream carving its path through the sleeping mountains. She was like a breeze rolling off the vast ocean, her waves crashing into the shore like the thoughts of her crash into your mind. Her darkness surrounded you and filled you with the cold light of a million stars. Loving her was a mirage, but she left her dreamers hopeful.

As cold and hollow as she was, she gave the kind of love that would break your heart. She could be soft and sensual, like marble statues too beautiful to be human, to be touched. If you did fall for the desire to touch her snowy skin she might fall apart, but oh does she love tactile sensations; satin sheets, lace over exposed skin, lips on her pulse and teeth on her collarbone. Yet her love was dangerous. Her sensuality fools those who don't hold caution over their heart for she was harsh and hateful just as much as she was soft. Loving her was senseless, but she left her fools in bliss.

Loving her was like placing your heart in her cold hands—gentle at first, like being caressed by soft skin to lessen the pain—but those slender fingers turn cold, twisting and tightening around you. It gives you a sense of foreboding for the power you know she holds over you; the power to consume and devastate you without knowing if or when she would. Loving her was murder, but she left her victims strangely alive.

One time I saw the night. She came to me in a dream; a dream so real I never woke up.