Human

Safaye

Lips throbbing.
Sweat dripping.
Hair flying.
Hips swaying.
Eyes twinkling.
Body pumping.
Skin tingling.

Heart broken.

Safaye was now grinding her hips against victim number seven. His lips were parted and his eyes were focused solely on her. His hands were everywhere—arms, neck, stomach, back. His kiss met her neck and her bottom met his crotch. They worked as a team, simultaneously. While she wanted to feel something—he was feeling everything.

"You're so beautiful."

Safaye let the words dance through one ear and saunter out the other. She wasn't here to get tugged on by sweet nothings; she was here to feel that little spark and go on with her business. Her heart was, unfortunately, broken beyond repair; nothing and no one could fix something as ruined and wrecked as her.

She turned around and bit her lip, her eyes conveying a secret message and the man eagerly responded back with his own way of communicating. Next, along with the trail of love marks that ran down her neck, was her other lips. Lips that were no longer sacred but still very, very divine. Dragging, tugging, biting, moaning—hell, they were both stark naked before they even reached an empty room.

A second hadn't even gone by before her cries filled the room and his groans mixed in; hers of elongated stress and his of unforgettable rapture.

At the end of night, or at the break of dawn maybe, Safaye had stumble out of the dilapidated bedroom, her legs buckling underneath her and her garden of Marigolds torn and harvested; tears bottled up in her celestial orbs and endless apologies plunged deep in her throat.

Safaye is confident and brave, independent and fearless.

Safaye remains unbothered and tranquil with everything, she goes through life with a half smirk frolicking on her lips and a knack for reckless paths.

But, like anyone who seems to be doing well, there's always that one side no one ever gets to see:

Safaye is lonely and ravaged and when she lets this side of her become dominant, that is when she's not at her breaking point but at her highest peak. 

—

At the age of fourteen was when Safaye gave fear the wheel and let it control her for only five seconds. That night, as she remembered so perfectly, crystal-clear, was when her older sister's boyfriend let her feel
for the first time. She didn't beg nor act better than him; instead, she let her true emotions run wild and simply, he became fascinated with the girl.

It was because behind all that image of perfection she had painted over herself, was a girl who knew the true definition of loneliness. Here was a girl who was a century more mature then her older sister and he spotted it with pop-bottle frames and a sly smile.

Safaye is okay.

Or so she thinks.

Which is why she gives in and signs up for a support group; for everyone's sake.