spending all day with him in our bed, he feeds me fruits, his fingers brush my lips, i pretend to bite him, to give him a scare, he slaps my mouth, only lightly, i giggle.
he is the beat to my heart, the music my feet dance on. my god. my darling god. my religion. i have lived for centuries, clutching my faith to my chest. faith not in the gods, or the temples or the churches, but faith in him.
he is the adam to my eve. the hades to my peresphone. he is my life my death. my birth, my grave. the ring on my finger and also the knife that cuts it.
he loves me more than i deserve. he follows me to my sin. he follows my footsteps even when he knows they are paved by blood. he braids my hair for battle. i would not be surprised if he kissed my lips after i order his death.
his thoughts obsess me like a maniac seeking light. i think of him to finish myself. i think of him to go to sleep. i think of him while writing and i think of him while smoking.
he could plunge a knife in me and i would want him to push deeper so he could be closer to me. he could snap the same neck he kisses and i would fold.
he is my villain and he is my savior. he is my darkest fantasy and my sweetest dream. he turns water into wine. he is bitter. he is pure. he is soft. he is cold. he is everything i could have ever wished for. he is what love is. he is what makes it true. he is what makes everything click.