King of Death

2

I loved her with all of my being.

She wasn't dull. She was full of life.

I love her soul that was not pure. The one that was just as dark as the abyss. The nothingness that was surrounding all of her being. I love the smell of her skin. I love how her skin feels against mine. I love to feel her small hands touching me softly in the morning or late at night. I love when she's showing any sign of affection towards me. I love when she's searching for me in the morning and she smells my hands. I love how her eyes lit up when she's excited. I love the sound of her voice. I love her motivation. I love that she loves money. I love when she feels powerful and safe enough to say whatever she thinks. I love the fire inside her that lit up every time she's motivated. I love her demonic features and her dark aura. I love that she's a fighter. I love that she would kill for what she believes in.

She loves Christmas and the city lights. She loves white tulips. She loves cigarettes. She loves big and fluffy dogs. She loves the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. She loves coffee in the morning with a strong taste of caramel. She loves sweets and sparkling water. She loves being hugged a lot more than she loves being kissed. She loves cold weather. She says she loves black, but I think that deep down, even she knows that grey is the right choice. She loves to see her leg muscles flex when she's walking. She loves staring in random mirrors or windows at herself. She loves expensive jewelry, but only if it's small and delicate gold with diamonds. She loves glowing things, especially glittery dresses, but she never wears them because she thinks it does not suit her. She loves the smell of rain in the summer. She loves to feel how the sand moves beneath her bare feet. She loves small gestures that show that you care. She loves to dance in the middle of the room when no one sees her. She loves Arabic music. She loves to travel by plane. She loves to hear the birds sing in the morning because that's how she knows she's in the right place. She loves compliments, even if she doesn't know how to react to them. She loves walking hand in hand, even if she never wants to admit. She loves being pampered. She loves when you kiss her forehead and move a strand of hair out of her face. She loves art, but never poetry, she never managed to truly understand poetry. She loves to learn, especially through reading and experiencing. She loves the world, as you can clearly see when she travels when her eyes lit up in excitement. She loves getting to know new people and understanding how their brain works. She loves power. She loves quiet and peace and she feels the need to be by herself maybe too many times.

She fears every insect, everything that crawls, bees and frogs. She fears of throwing up. She fears the darkness. She fears losing the people she loves the most. She fears the loneliness that's surrounding her when she doesn't need it. She fears not being in control. She even fears power when she has to use it. She fears to admit her darker thoughts. She fears love or being in love. She fears making mistakes and she beats herself up about that until she fixes it. She fears when she has to do something by herself, but she does it any way, even though deep down she wants to be helped. She fears of never being good enough for someone, or for something and that always make her want more.

I only fear that I wouldn't know what to do or how to live if she's ever leaving.

She hates yellow and orange. She hates to drink tea when she's sick. She hates romance movies. She hates crowded places, even though she loves meeting new people. She hates when she runs away when things don't work how she intended. She hates when she's too loud. She hates when she gets drunk. She hates when she smokes too much. She hates when clothes don't fit her as she wants. She hates herself when she's allowing herself to be angry and react how she truly feels like. She hates when she screams. She hates when she feels like she seeks someone's attention. She hates when she doesn't trust herself because deep down, she knows she's the best. She hates when people are looking at her. She hates when she sweats. She hates when she's being watched, especially when she's at the gym. She hates when someone's making her feel like she's not enough. She hates when people text her on her birthday and not call, even though she hates to answer calls, that's the only day she's pleased when she has to pick up the phone. She hates to cry when she feels scared, anxious or disappointed. She hates that she never felt fulfilled. She hates that she was never truly proud of herself.

I hate that she hates the sun and warm weather. I hate when she puts herself in danger. I hate when she thinks she's stronger than she truly is. I hate when she's containing herself when she's angry. I hate that she never allows herself to truly feel. No matter how much I love that she would kill for what she believes in, I always hate that she would also die for it.

And mostly, I hate that I love her more than she will ever love herself.