FORGET ME NOT

II

GENTLY, HIS FINGERS TRAILED along my waist. His hand cupped my cheek, his eyes filled with more sorrow than he could ever express. He wished I could understand why. But how could I when he was fading so quickly? His arms wrapped around my body holding me as if I were his last hope, and I realized that he felt like home. He held the scent of Marlboro that had made love to the sea, his chestnut brown eyes veiling his indecipherable thoughts. His touch soft and calloused, his lips holy upon our sin. He was everything I had ever dreamt of. He was everything I had ever dreamt of, and more.

I felt his rapid heartbeat as I lay against him. His love was addictive, even when I knew it wasn't real. I didn't mind. He kissed my tears away and his smile would never reach his eyes. I never said anything, although I wish I would've. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what he had until he lost it. I knew he didn't want me. I knew he didn't need me. But I was selfish; I wanted him. I needed him. And so I let him believe in the mirage we painted unto the lens with our blood, our tears, our flesh and called it our world. Our lives.

I was his world.

I was his life.

I was his muse.

And I was his downfall.