He hit me (and it felt like a kiss)

His hands glided his way up my arm, grazing bruises as he did so, every last one had indications of lust or anger surrounding it, however the perpetual possibility of love remains. Now, like the sky above us, he was no longer beautiful. The palette of blues pinks and oranges faded only to be replaced with a deep dark black...

(I did this for an English exam and I wanted to finish it. Sorry if it had any grammatical errors Please correct me, I'm just trash at everything )

~I do not condone or romanticise abuse in any shape or form this is just a story~