continued with @phanmor
she reached for him, now, in the same manner he always had attempted to when they both existed as tangible beings. silently, with hopes; and perhaps, wanting a sort of contact that could make one’s soul soar to heaven itself - and, leaving only the tempting promises of his unsaid whispers - he refused loudly, knowing better than to fall so easily into a bigger and cruller trap than the mere illusion of still being someone worthy. had those fingers, so pale and fragile, been around the coldness of his mist, his confusing mind would wander back to the ideas of a living man ─ the one that wrote her words of love ! and desperately had kissed her amid his dreams ─ the only place where her heart belonged aside his, beating accordingly, softly, hauntingly.
his darling never stood quietly. Nathaniel was as used to her storms as with the marble keys of the ancient piano, his long-sought friend during the neverending nights in which the spirit never quieted down, ao contrary to the mutilated creatures. while the weaker bits deep inside wished to pull her closer - to moan the sweetest apologies of the world against her skin, for indeed his rudeness was a torture thrown at someone so beautiful; so enchanting - the remaining coldness reigned powerfully, even if flinching before her snarks ( always so sure of herself ! of her imperial knowledge ! who told her ears such image of him? one so noble, so pure, of one who carried faith still after a fire that consumed it all? ) and observations - useless, were they ! his once beloved was a joke in the bigger painting created by the devil. a white dove who would forever be unwelcomed among the crows. a wishful thought, an exquisite idea; a lasting suffering; I will never allow her to watch me again. damnable are those grey eyes that follow me, even after I leave the room !
“ has death turned you less wise, my dear? or just enough to believe I ought to seek the pleasures of living despite the knowledge that I can not feel them as I used to? to think that even yourself is included among them when you are as dead as me. as rotten as myself. as gone, as myself. ” a bride’s hand became a shadow. a bride’s gown became a martyr. her cries ripped his flesh apart. and her devotion ─ ─ ─ remained his only craving. yet your eyes are distant as you turn to her - deep as the ocean, and half as wild. you lie as easily as you once blinked. you touch her cheek as unfeelingly as you once lovingly did so. “ death made me realize things, that much is true: I flee from touch because I no longer want it. I escape from warmth because I no longer need it. ” the message was hidden, so well, between the lines; I ever only needed you. “ what I once dreaded already happened, there is nothing left, and thus, it is nothing that I fear - and there is nothing that I love. ”