the horrors can also be glittery and pink

Each gentle caress of your hand along the expanse of tan skin along his body hid barely contained violence. Love so strong your brain couldn’t comprehend it, going back to its most visceral reaction, violence. Violence in the way you kissed him, violence in the way your hips met his, violence in the way you dug your nails through many layers of atoms that made up his skin, until with human fragility, his skin gave the rawest component of his being to you. Blood.

Not that you meant to hurt him and not that he minded it, because he understood what your nails were digging in through for. Knew, because with each trembling, brutal slam of his body into yours, he searched to be closer to your very essence. The deeper he pushed inside, the more he felt as if he could get closer to your soul. Your heart.

The heart, the physical, substantial organ that contains a person’s soul. The very thing the both of you searched for with hopeless, frantic and reckless twists of your bodies. Your heart, he wanted, to rip you open, break the ribs and rip the lungs that hid you from him and take what was rightfully his; then lay beneath your own hands and let you take his own.

A sacrifice you’d both make for the other, because entangled in passion and pleasure, both of you understood that pain was only an extension of ecstasy. That the more your tendons felt like they might break when your legs were pushed apart under roughened hands and that the more the base of his spine felt like it might be crushed by the heels of your feet, the more sweet the height of shared death would be.

Death that made your eyes roll back until you could see your brain melting under the release of pleasure he gave your body. Death that made more of his blood flow down the alley between his shoulder blades and dirty both of your bodies. Death that ripped screams from the paper thin flesh that formed your vocal cords and in the midst of exhaustion trying to pull lovers apart, made you kiss the other with even more fervor.

Even if physically, without losing the other, you couldn’t truly reach within the other, the aftermath of shared ecstatic decease brought you closer. Made your bloodied hands tremble as they cupped his face, made your lips press feverish kisses to his face and made you ingest the metallic taste of his life; Made him let out a shaky sound, pleasured, pained, amused? He wasn’t sure, but your apologies fell onto deaf ears, he wasn’t sorry, why were you?

So as simply as breathing, he kissed you, silencing morality from trying to take his lover away from him, take away the truth in how much you loved him; the truth in how your bodies reacted to the others, the truth in the animalistic need of closeness that brought you together.

His wounds would heal, his skin would gladly scar, but the pure sensation that you brought to him, he couldn’t miss. Even if for a moment while you innocently begged for forgiveness that didn’t truly exist, for you could never truly wrong him; he couldn’t let something as futile as words diminish the pure act of love you committed against him.

So in complete disregard to the concept of pain as a horrid, repulsive thing, his body, defiled by passion, asked for more of yours. More of what only you could give to him, as trembling with pleasure, he began to move into you once again. Searching for more of what he’d only accept from your two gentle hands. Carnage.

dj khaled another one. hope you enjoyed reading my descent into madness xoxoxo