Cigarette Daydream

Death's Kiss

I had always danced with the thought of death, but never lingered with his kiss. It was just something that was thought of in the middle of the night or when I slepted.

But now it's like I'm gasping for the touch, or maybe just looking for an escape.

~~~~~

Alice cried silent tears as she made another tear, another mark that would scar over and eventually heal. She was out for blood this time, and nothing could stop her. Just one more, and the pain will go away.

But it never did, so Alice made more, begging for the bliss that came with the escacy of each cut, begging for the final slice of metal through the layers of her delicate skin that brought forth content only the monsters could quell with for such time until she needed the silence once more.

But it never came.

Alice sat in a quaking rush, each movement quick and jagged. You stupid girl. Of course she would betray you. What made you think she was any different from the others? More tears accumulated in the corner of her eyes, swelling up and then falling in droplets; her vision blurred from the constant, evil remarks.

And then it all went away, and suddenly she was dancing in drenching rain; she was so overcome with the euphoria that she didn't realize death was dancing with her, patiently waiting for her to faulter so he may save her from the fall.

Death was romantic in a way, always thinking of another way to woe the sadden people, thinking of more ways to touch their lips for what would be the last time they had ever felt joy, joy for the release.

But other times it was to be taken, because they hadn't chose to die, some just did. It was never planned, just a spur in the moment, a lapse in judgment.
But Alice was different. She kept dancing, she kept gracefully moving with each step she took, and with each step proved to be so melodic it was provocative to death. But he continued to wait for the taste of her porcelain lips.

He waited for the taste as if it was his first, as if it was an eternity since his first touch. And he waited for her to notice him, he waited almost as if a lover, and he questioned himself so.

Could she be the angelic light to his external darkness? Alice and Death, a duo that danced in the basking wetness of the rain.

He made his move, but it wasn't what you would expect, his lips did not touch hers. Instead, his hands found its way to hers, his feet stepping to match hers, his ecstatic expression leveling to her passionate one. She did not fear him. She took him with joy, dancing to no music but to the sound of her fading heart beat until it was no more.

And then, and only then, did Alice feel the first, and last, blissful touch of warm lips pressed against hers.