You touched me. Like fire on ice. Like your hand had emerged from the depths and the darkness of Hell and touched the purest symbol of Heaven you blindly found as you stumbled around for hope. Like you needed it, an everlasting desperation, an eternal addiction, an irreversible Hamartia as your source of survival and dependence lay in that very touch.
You held me. Like you'd never let go. Like I was your strand of sparring hope remaining, keeping you from falling over the cliff of No Return, saving you from dissolving in the abyss that lay beneath. Like I was your life, your death, your joy, your sorrow; your undeniably intoxicating duality, the very exquisite mystery that drew me near to you.
You kissed me. Like a predator teasing its prey. Like I was your victim, a coward on a leash for possession, a lame cripple dependent on its walking cane as your presence towered over my very soul, subject to a crescendo of violence. Like you owned me, with the skills of your tongue, and no matter what you'd do, I'd return like the fool I was.
You told me stories; stories of your pain, and even all the love in the world packed in a girl wouldn't help you. I tried. Oh God knows; I tried so hard to remove your pain. I tried so hard that the pain shifted on me, paralyzing my weak body and soul. You shared your secrets, secrets of your past, and secrets that cursed me. They haunted me in my dreams at night and hid themselves in my shadows during the day, invisible to the naked eye but not to my naked conscience. You led me into the darkness that was your mind, the darkness that enveloped your humanity, and the darkness that eventually consumed me. I told you to let me see you bare, but the horrors you revealed proved too much for my innocence to bear.
But, then again, wasn't that your plan? To draw me in with your mysterious charm, that dark, moody charisma? After all, the good girls do indeed fall for the bad boy, and you were bad to the core.
I wanted to help you, and somewhere in my pure intentions, you slipped in a vial of blackened sin, corrupting my innocence and turning me around. I will never again be that girl in the flower dress with a warm smile; I will never again see the beauty in a sun-kissed meadow with natures best on display. Instead, I will be the girl in the worn-out hoodie with gray trousers and a gray mind; I will see the impending doom in the transient, momentary glory of a field of overgrown weeds.
Innocence is like glass.
It is strong, but if a crack appears, it will crumble to shards that will cut you.
Cuts too deep for a band aid to cover.
And I just kept bleeding, hopelessly, pouring blood out, pouring out a hybrid of my memories. Love and hate, joy and horror, pleasure and pain. It broke out a dichotomy of passions that ripped me apart relentlessly and ruthlessly, reducing me to redundancy. I lost sight of my power, my tenacity, and my strength, as it all crumbled in front of you. You're a disease, a deadly virus that poisoned my soul with a dart of temptation.
Because I couldn't resist you. I betrayed myself and lost myself in lust.
I scream out loud, unable to hold in the thunder of emotions that ripples throughout my body. "Oh lust, let go your eternal grip on me!"
A soft wind wraps itself around me in a maternal, warm hug and coaxes my chin up as it whispers in my ear words that shook my very existence, "But darling, you're holding onto me."
