#blissrot

      “ You don’t love me. ”

      She had been trying to grant herself a moment of peace, ALONE, but he had followed behind closely, like fire nipping at her heels, threatening to consume her whole from the inside out.  Her shirt was already being wrenched off, tugged over her head unceremoniously and cast aside to the tile floor of the bathroom.  She saw his shadow stretch across the floorboards of the hallway, and in some act of defiance she kicked the door closed, letting it shake on its hinges and rattle the doorframe like a dying breath against old bones.  There were no locks in that place, but it felt nice to be belligerent  –  UNTAMED.      Hands gripped the chipped edges of the counter, her body slumped forward like it was all she could do to hold herself up.  She didn’t want to cast her gaze to the mirror  ( NO. NO. NO. )  and have to confront the damage done.  Bliss swam lazy circles around the inside of her head.  She could see it in her own eyes, the cloudy dizziness that glazed them over and made them dance.  It had been the only way he’d kept her still long enough to press needles to her flesh.      C. V.      Her fingers jumped to the ink now staining the side of her neck, lips parting in near shock.  DISTRESS.  Whatever twisted little game he was playing, she had wanted no part in it !  By the time he had opened the door, she had stripped, and he was given no sort of cursory glance.  Like he was merely some ghost that she was able to stare right through.  She wanted to curse at him, HISS, claw and bite, but pursue her he did.        ( RESOLVE BROKE  &  PRIDE FELL FAST )      It should have made her sick with how familiar his skin felt against her own, how warm he was, how close he held her like he had the right.  His chest to her back, his lips to her throat, his hands around her middle  ;  all him  /  only him.  Was it only ever him ?  Nails harpoon themselves into his wrists as though to punish him for his crimes.  He had STOLEN her.  She draws blood, like the vicious creature she’s always been, but she doesn’t push him away.  Oh, she’s furious, that much is clear by her lips pulling back in a snarl, but the same teeth that threaten to tear him apart piece by piece are kept at bay when she returns his damning kisses. 

sofa, pouting. Dark brows furrow, hands wringing themselves together as he thinks back to his wife. Only in name does she hold that title, he thinks with no small amount of bitterness. “You’re a woman, yes? Pray tell me how I’m supposed to overcome this.” Slumping forward, Caliban puts his face in his hands. A heavy sigh escapes him, a lovelorn expression making its way onto his tired face. “How do I make her love me?” 2/2

      A man in love with a woman and stricken mad by it, a struggle that would continue to repeat as long as humanity walked the earth.  Perhaps even after that.  She had seen it countless times over, even experienced it herself at one point  ( a long time ago )  and so she set down her book and listened.  Watched.  Given anyone else, she would have observed with some distant amusement and curious eyes, let them talk themselves in circles and fall deeper still into whatever little rut they had created.  But he meant something to her, a FRIEND.       LOVESICK.       She regarded it as a terrible thing to come down with, and if his current state was held up for her judgement, she would confidently say that he was thoroughly riddled with it.  Oh, poor dear…  Vivienne drew her lips together, considering his plight with quiet scrutiny.  “ She’s afraid.  Fear makes the heart cold.  The fox will not run to the wolf when chased by the pack.  She’ll view him just as she views the rest of them. ”

      “ Caliban  –  it’s like two in the morning. ”

      “ You look tired, love, ”  she was quick to welcome him, setting her book and pen to the side the moment she registered his woeful expression.  FORLORN.  Still plagued by the same afflictions, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.  Why, she both envied and pitied anyone caught up in the throes of infatuation.  On one side of the proverbial coin there were promises of thrill !  On the other ?  MISERY such as his, neither avoidable nor able to be fled from. 

Grave Suggestions / Light / Accepting

He’d been so lost when she’d found him. 

Stumbling through an existence not even worthy of being called ‘life’. He’d lost much and had lost himself trying to survive. 

How he’d thrived since that day.