; corrupt
She’s breaking, dying, changing so sweetly before him, and his selfish heart can do nothing but tear her apart.
He wonders where all his foolhardy strength has gone, that which kept his teasing at some remotely healthy distance -- he hates himself ( you rotten, selfish, terrible person ) who would let ice-cold hands even think of brushing against the bright-burning sun, the star whose light he followed out of the darkness ( now, she seems to be leading him back in ). Her form has never once lost its beauty ( blinding, perfect and delicate ) but seeing it mature and ripe ( disgusting, that word is disgusting, he’d like to burn it out of his thoughts ) has begun to shake his unwavering fortitude ( he could so easily break her with the depths of his corruption; is he not already doing that now? ).
He pretends he hasn’t seen her like that, fine silk hanging from her body just so to show him how she’s grown -- once, there seemed to be so few secrets between them ( at least, so few of her secrets ), but all he can do is hide his face and close off his warped heart just a bit more and hope that somehow, she won’t notice ( she always does, every time, but she’s far too kind to tell him that ).
She offers him a strawberry and he takes it playfully ( for there should be no harm in playing at a sensual scene, there never has been before ) only to understand too late the flush on her cheeks -- and even later, the way that expression had burned itself into his mind as if only to make his heart stray further from the one pure thing it had managed to hold.
He lies beneath her, eye wide in shock as he grapples with his rot; she cannot hold him down except by the pure accident that he refuses to so much as touch her -- and yet that formerly immaculate affection is beginning to splinter and change in his heart, taking her perfect image and twisting it to suit his sickness. He can feel her breathing ( and the way its pace quickens, grows uneven as she begins to break ), the warmth of her skin ( it could burn him up, and perhaps that would be a better fate than this were he not certain he may enjoy it ) -- it’s because of him that she’s breaking, her image and her self, for she is too untouchably good to have ever fallen without some devil’s influence.
But her lips brush against his and his strength is not enough; he is the corruption that will one day destroy her ( that is his gift, is it not? ), the sickness that will bring her to her end, and it’s only because he is rotten that he dares to kiss her back, letting himself sink into this corruption that is his and his alone.
( and even beyond the point of breaking, he will carry her; even as this madness surges up again and again, he cannot bring himself to separate from her if only to save her. )