This week’s post is in response to Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday. It also goes along with my October-Darktober theme. After all, what’s darker than a romance gone wrong?
Her feet hooked into the backs of his legs as he pressed into her,
A satisfied chuckle escaped his lips after the release.
Their bodies entwined, believed themselves attached,
Allowed their hearts to wander, deceived by their own good intentions;
The false blue sky above opened to reveal looming clouds swollen
With regret and hopelessness.
Disapproval, a sinburst of consequences and repercussions
Threatened at a magnitude neither could withstand, but the addiction to one another begged to be fed, mouths and hands opened to an absolute need to
Touch and be touched – his work, her car; nearby park, his car; rundown motel barely beyond the horizon of prying eyes;
Last time, oh promise this is the last time…until finally, it was.
He lived in a state of paranoia – so fearful they would be discovered, yet wanting, wanting.
He wondered if she still felt his skin under her fingertips, if she remembered the small
Violet birthmark on his back she used to kiss, how she played with the ringlets of his wet hair that fell to his neck and the scent of his skin.
He wondered if she still felt his hands glide up her calves and the way his eyes glazed into a state of blissful wonder at her naked body.
The memories scorched her blood they grew so hot inside her. The light within dimmed.
Then, like the remains of a candle, its glow barely visible at the tip of a wick floating in a shallow basin of liquid wax,
She blew out her insignificant flame. One lingering puff of smoke dissipated into the ether and all was gone.
(Image courtesy of OpenClipArt.org)