My devotion turned into nightmares as his lips parted and spilt midnight blue on my ever pleading hands.
I never understood what I had done wrong to deserve such a shade of agony
As my colour was already as black as it could be,
But the blue still managed to make a place of its own as it settled down right beside my darkness.
I wished to know where lay the source of my everlasting submission towards him;
Where it started and where it ended.
Because this agony felt so ancient, yet so unaccustomed to me that I could not decipher it,
could not read or reveal the secrets that kept it alive.
The scars left on my fingertips still yearned for a touch of comfort I had lost long ago,
It was a touch that could not be replaced or, retraced.
The void stayed within my chest and grew with every step he took,
Until all there was left was a hole.
It looked just like him,
It felt just like him,
Yet, it was empty.
The pain became the only constant in the everlasting battle of desire we both showed in our darkest moments.
It was tragic, a miraculous disaster, a tasteful distance.
And it was mine to keep, and his to let go of.
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