Peaceful and calm.
Worthy of my love.
Startling pale profile in soft focus against satin sheets.
Eyelashes and eyebrows the only hair in sight. How is that?
I want to kill him as much as I want to cure him. And those desires still don’t compare to how much I want to touch him now.
He’ll never be good. I’ll never be bad.
We’ll never be happy. We’ll never be…
I could kill him with the slightest touch.
I could save him. I could save me.
I could save us all.
But I don’t.