Poison

The pain makes me smile.

Dear Aleksander,

I remember us in our prime. Fighting our enemies... each other. Every time you were bloody, scratched and wounded -me looking the same- ... every time I was about to deliver the killing blow... you took my face in your hands... your bloodstained fingers leaving deep crimson smears across my cheeks... and kissed me. And I answered back. We broke apart for air but didn't stay that way for long. In those moments before you re-enveloped me in the indispensable quality of you I caught a glimpse of your face. And every time I became sure that you were a demon (not an angel of course) a demon set to allure me distract me from my core values and everything I had worked so hard to earn. But I let you.

Because you were so beautiful.

Your hair surely as black as night but also as the inexplicable feeling taking purchase in my core. A few strands coated with dry blood -likely mine- drifted across your forehead. Your skin, ivory pale was cold and soft as it crinkled around the corners of your eyes whenever you smirked at me or my eagerness. Your eyes themselves held that quartz hue yet continued to astonish me in the way that they could always seem to know my secrets. Your nose was bloodied and bruised and continued to remind me that this stemmed from pain not from love. But it didn't stop my assessment as my eyes wandered downwards to your now slightly, swollen lips. The Cupid's bow so perfectly formed that I could spend my life admired the curve of your lip and be content. Their slight pinkness showing that you were young and still a boy, but was the only aspect that revealed so. 

Every time you caught me staring you would raise an eyebrow, amused and almost smug as if you took pride in my study. Until one day after what seemed like an eternity of bloodshed, I caught you staring at me. You gazed at me in wonder. In so much wonder that I mused whether or not you were actually seeing me. I knew I paled in comparison to you, yet you loved me all the same. As I do you. Did.