Malignant, Endless, Passionate

Preface

Her colourless skin was arctic as she rested sorrowful on the foundation of a 1960’s bench. She needn’t ponder about him, for he disregarded her like a stale day old taste; however she did ponder, and her heart ached.

 With the chill of this winter’s night, she wondered how her free-falling tears didn’t morph into ice, and how multiple layers of clothing still didn’t manage to take off her shivering.

 She had been helplessly wandering her condensed thoughts, hoping for something less daunting than the fact he didn’t love her. She flinched, remembering how everything he had promised had been bitter; a sour, lingering bitter, which attacked her bare soul. She presumed this was the exact motive behind his deceit. He had an acidic tongue, and it wore away at her dangerously, providing her with thrill, with adventure, with malignant romance, and she thrived on it.

 It was the way he would always press his masculine body against her as much as physically possible, how his kisses would trail to her jaw line and all the way down her neck, how he would then lick back up her neck and plant a sweet yet noxious kiss on her lips. How he spoke in riddles, always in a deep symphonic tone. How he would captivate her, and how whenever she stared into his bronze eyes and he stared back into hers it felt like he was reading every microscopic detail about her; how he scared her at times with a sudden raise in his voice, how he’d become distant with her when he wanted time to himself, how he’d passionately threaten her.

 Her tears by this time had resided, weakness taking over the current feeling of her bones. She knew she couldn’t sleep on this bench in minus temperatures, and she also knew she had nowhere else to go; with her tiredness increasing each minute, she understood how quickly she needed to find a location of rest.

 She dragged herself off the bench, almost reluctantly, for she had been comfortable. Her head turned towards the right, her eyes inspecting the distance in front of her before turning towards the left. She concluded the right seemed like the better option, with many buildings cluttering both sides of the road. She sighed, folded her arms over her chest and walked. The only thing she would leave behind were her footprints in the snow.