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Rafe and Sofia– The Betrayers.
When they hurt each other they attack– teeth bared, hands hidden behind their back.
But the most tragic thing? It pains them. It makes their heart writhe in their chest, molars clamped on bloody tongues. Tongues they’d rather be using to kiss the others mouth. But how can she kiss him when he used that same mouth to degrade her? How can he bear her touch when it was those same hands that signed his money away?
She dreams of his blue eyes, (rimmed with tears, staring up at her in reverence), on lonely nights in her own bed– he’d kicked her out of his.
He dreams of her delicious, rasping voice (mouth pressed up against his ear, honeyed moans dripping down his throat), on wearying days on the Moroccan desert– alone, unlike the Pogues who have each other.
It’s torture. Being apart.
But you got to look out for yourself right? No one else is going to.
Not even the person you gave your all to.
