02.

To kiss in the moonlight
and kill in the day time

This desire of being kissed is a never-ending war with faith and mental sanity, a far etched fantasy painted by the lustrous colours of scenarios that my mind would sketch at the loneliest hours past midnight. 

It is this yearning of the foreign feeling of being wanted that your mouth wrapped around my own sounds the most appealing of ways to drown my anxieties. Breathes mingling and the air getting hot, it's this thrill or rush of hormonal disbalance that sets my heart racing and in no time my lips hurt for not being taken. 

To drink and drown, to listlessly lose ourselves to the hands of time, a kiss to seal this midnight rendezvous, a secret inked from my lips to yours, to think you'd drink my secrets and I'd feel pleased from yours. Our kisses are well wrapped tales sold to the bards who pray at nightfall.

I cudgel my brain about the taste of cinnamon that you might taste on my tongue or the diffused essence of bitterness drawn from the same heart around your name in someone else's handwriting, I don't know.

Maybe that is because your kisses feel like dreams, tattered into my skin, your scent remains and that is the sole proof that you were here, in my arms, my hand in your hair, your hands holding my face, your lips on mine.

Breaking from this kiss is like creaking into the dawn of reality and drifting away from this sombre plague of your crimes. It is this swollen red of my lips that resembles my heart's agony that takes me away from you and your thorns alike. 

They say when you're in love, fate weaves your path like red threads of karma bound together but we were intertwined like we wanted to strangle each other, tangled mess of limbs on this cold ground, holding onto this thinning line of eternal damnation until our hearts gasped with pangs of woe, we were doom in all its finest glory.

We were the end of our worlds and the testament of brutality and heinous bonds of treachery, we were never meant to meet by the shade of midnight or have our lips kissed by the tips of their swords. We were born to be each other's demise not prevaricate for the sin of prattle that our lives were linked to.

We were never meant to be in l
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