I wanted to touch every ounce of him. Not just his body, but his soul, and I longed desperately to let him know that I wasn’t afraid. I was not afraid that his soul was surrounded by thorns and darkness; I was ready to bleed and light up his world as the stars did that very first time he kissed me beneath the lake; hair, glossy and bright; eyes, sparkling with life; mouth, curved with a perpetual smile. Hair, oily and matted. Eyes, dulled with abuse. Mouth, twisted in a mockery of forever. What once was, never will.
Yet still, I wanted to prove myself, like a ceremonious gift to the gods, that I no longer feared the way his breath shook the trees under which we strained for a piece of daylight. I wanted to peel back the layers and watch the sun awaken from its holy hiding place inside your cells. But it has been too long. I waited, watching the romantic, tragic death of your radiating love. What once was, never will.