Satan reincarnate: You're my Poetry

Why?

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My eyes met his, and I physically couldn't hold back the cheesy smile that spread on my heartbroken face. I crumpled, practically fell into his arms. He caught me swiftly, spinning me around as his lean embrace engulfed me with a heavy, crushed sigh. He had the same romantic smell and touch of his hands, the same old shallow beat of his heart. Just for a second, I felt like everything would be okay. It was the nostalgic feeling of what felt so long ago, when his touch was rarely soft and gentle. It was those hands, that touch, that made it seem impossible to even fathom the thought of him hurting me over and over again.

"Oh, Angelina." He whispered, his throat audibly tight.

That voice, the way he said my name. It was too perfect to be real, it couldn't be. He was too beauteous to physically exist- almost as if he were sculpted in heaven. Which he was; everyone was. He just got lucky with genetic bingo. I missed being in love with him. Yes, I loved him from afar, but I needed him here with me. I needed it to be real, and now it was. After I collapsed into him, it felt like I never had to fall again. I opened my mouth, letting him hear the cries that ripped from my throat every night. His hand met the back of my head, pulling me further against his clothed chest, pressing the beats of his heart into my ringing ears.

"It's okay, I know." He whispered down to me, barely choking his words out as he squeezed me tighter.

I savored the moment, inhaling his husky citrusy-peppermint scent that he had always carried around with him. His hair was different, I wasn't used to reaching up so high to handle my hands softly into the roots of his gentle locks. I parted my lips, weakly exhaling a broken sigh of relief. It finally hit me: the reason I stayed up countless hours at night, mindlessly waiting for nothing was here. Here, with his glorious arms wrapped tight around my torso.

"I-" I started, interrupting myself as I tried to latch myself to him even tighter.

"You what?" He urged me with a kind voice, beginning to peel away.

Hesitantly, I let him slip away from me. However, I refused to let go of his elbow, the way he had always held mine. Except, this moment was soft. I was only afraid of him slipping away again. Something was wrong with me, for loving him. Being in love with him. But, regardless of being ill, or perfectly sane, I had hated to admit I was nothing without him. He looked down at me, his expression cracking open- revealing his cottony interior he never had let me witness before. He reach up, a manicured thumb wiping the tears beginning to stain my face.

"You're even more beautiful." He quietly chirped.

My heart jumped past my throat and into my eyes. I felt like a little cartoon mouse falling in love with the predatory cat, hearts throbbing in her eyes when she looked at him. I swelled, swelled with joy, fear, pain.. different fragmentation's of every emotion you could ever even imagine. I felt some things I hadn't ever even thought possible before then, but yet again.. he had always made me feel the strangest things. For example, making me fall in love with him regardless of the torment and abuse he put me through. Regardless of the fact he stole my life from me. Yes he set me free physically, but he always treasured my heart with him.

"I prayed you'd come back." I whispered, beginning to avoid his burning brown gaze.

I part of me was embarrassed. Most would pray to get away fro the man who stole from, hurt, and de-flowered them. But me? No, not for him. Something about him was so painfully familiar. Like we were similar. I couldn't describe it even if you asked me too, you'd just have to experience it.

"I know, baby. And I'm so sorry I left." He sniffed, his voice still lowered. He gently crouched, and I objectively met his lost stare. "I thought you'd be glad."

Baby? I hadn't ever heard that from him. Well.. not when it wasn't disgustingly sinister. All I needed for the longest time was to feel loved, by him. Nobody else. I waited for him, not letting a single man.. or woman touch me. It was only him, and it only ever will be. He set my heart to soar, counting each star. The stars were back now, but after he left me they all disappeared into nothing but dim droplets of fire and smoke. I tried to make myself feel glad when he was gone from my life, but he was all I could think about. He took up my entire life; the pain he had caused me made my career. I nodded, unable to speak. 'Cat got your tongue?' Yes, it did. Always leaving speechless with a busy mind and sore heart. I had grown accustom to it.

"No." I croaked, blinking back a fresh wave of childish tears. He was the only one to ever bring out the vulnerable, soft interior buried deep below the rubble within me. Even when I though I hated him, he always got the best of my tears.

He rubbed my face, slowly up and down with his thumb. His touch was magnetic, pulling my skin closer and closer until it was physically fused with his hand. I closed my eyes, feeling like a fresh puppy getting her ears rubbed by her favorite person. I opened my eyes, breathless at the prettiest pair of honey eyes looking right back at me. They were wider than they ever had been, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes under the sun. He was so pretty, it brought tears to my eyes and adrenaline to my heart.

"I've been watching, I couldn't stay away from you." He whispered, glancing between my eyes and my sore lips.

I furrowed my eyebrows, hurt.

"Only for a few weeks." He whispered, bringing me closer. "But still," He started again, his eyes locking to my lips. "I hadn't seen you four years too many."

It was like a movie, I literally had thought I felt sparks fly as he pressed his soft, freshly pierced lips to mine. I closed my eyes, the pressure pushing tears down my flushed face. His hand rested on the nape of my neck, his other one creeping down to grasp my hand in his. My lips fit his perfectly, like they were molded for him. I was my own person until he was here, and then I was his.

Seconds turned to hours as his lips moved with mind, creating a soft musical refreshment in my dehydrated lungs. The rosy trains haulted on its tracks as they traveled through my heart, stopping my thick blood from pumping through my paralyzed body while he held me against him. He tasted fresh, like a sweet cinnamon candy. He tasted sober. I clutched his back, pressing myself against him until it felt as if my ribs pierced through my flesh, and held hands with his. He was magical, and I was his.

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