He kissed her like a dying man praying at an altar,
all shaking hands and hungry devotion,
like he wanted to crawl beneath her skin
Like her body was the only holy thing
left in this godforsaken world.
Every touch felt catastrophic.
The kind of passion that leaves bruises on the soul,
His hands worshipped her desperately,
like he was terrified she might disappear
if he loosened his grip even slightly.
Mouth open with broken little breaths,
heart pounding so violently
she thought he must feel it between them,
must know he was undoing her completely.
The air itself felt feverish.
Heavy with sweat and perfume and want.
The room smelled like rain, skin, smoke, and sin.
Like the beginning of something dangerous.
He looked at her as though he was starving.
As though loving her hurt.
As though heβd spent his entire life searching
for something that sounded like her heartbeat in the dark.
And when their foreheads touched afterward,
when silence wrapped around them soft as velvet,
she couldβve sworn their souls blurred together at the edges.
One living thing made from longing and heat and ache.
So tell her why he vanished afterward.
Why his voice became distant.
Why his messages lost their warmth.
Why she now lays awake clutching pillows that still smell like him,
breathing in dark amber and cedar and midnight,
letting it poison her slowly.
Because his perfume still lingers everywhere.
Deep in the fabric of the clothes he pulled apart so carelessly.
And every time she catches the scent,
her body remembers before her mind does.
The unbearable tenderness of being held
like she was precious for one fleeting night.
Makes her feel detached from the world around her,
like sheβs moving through water while everyone else breathes air.
A heart still kneeling at the altar of someone
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