The day Venus decided to confide into Alexander was the day Alexander was sure he loved her. He had never seen such a woman look so beautiful and graceful at night while in tears. He never seen Venus in a vulnerable state like this, and he wanted to pull her out of it, but he knew she needed time.
She told him her darkest secrets and regrets and how everything she ever done has made an impact on her future. She told him how she always felt like a grey cloud was over her head and how she felt anxious that a rainstorm might begin. She told him her days were dark before he rudely interrupted her life, and she told him she hated herself with a dying passion. As she poured her heart out to Alexander, her eyes flooded with salt and water, pouring down her red and puffy cheeks. Her lips were shaking, but not as much as her hands and fingers that were locked into place with Alexander's larger, rougher hands.
Alexander did the best he could to comfort her, and it really did help her, but all he wanted to do was to touch her soft, wet lips drizzled in pain. He couldn't help it. He wanted a taste of the angel whose lips were glass, were delicate flowers.
And so he did, he kissed her.
YOU ARE READING
the art of love
Short Storya short-story of a love and a connection that could not be broken.
