Eventide

It was dangerous. Being here with her wasn't going to end well. It's too risky, feeling her skin against my own pressed against a wall that was nearly as cold as the metal tying us together. Her attraction is fleeting, here for now and gone when the sun rises again. Bodies were twisted together, sometimes out of wants or unspoken needs, other times out of necessity. To make sure that we both stayed when she's obviously gone.
Cold beds are something I've grown far too used to. Cold words and shoulders. Freezing metal that drags down my finger is the thing that seems to ignite the most. It feels like third degree burns when passions run high. It brands the skin when it connects with her's when words become deafening. Coldness is something that I know by nature, cold hearts aren't any exception.