Kissing You

He buried himself in a dark place; it was devoid of care, of concern, for either self or anything else. He had truly lost hope, not only in any idealistic fantasy that he had held on such a pedestal for so long, but at last in the idea itself. It was a cold thought, it was chilling right down to the core. Warmth was only brought from a fire deep down, fueled by hate and resentment. This had become the lowest point for him—to be fair he had been in bad places before, but this put him at a level univocal to its predecessors.

In this state he still rationalized going out, interacting with the masses, hoping they could lend a hand in bringing him up. He found himself at a familiar house, a safe-haven for a former fire, one that he had tried to ignore; not by his own merit, however from the demands of another. He saw her, and in that moment he felt a guilt that seemed to be more powerful than his recent sorrow. He hurt her so dearly, and it didn’t matter how he felt any more… she tried so desperately to hide the pain... still; but he saw it so clearly written in her eyes. He wanted to repent, not to any god, but to her. It was only in her forgiveness would he find a sense of absolution.

Throughout the night they traded coy glances, trying not to give in to the other. He conceded control to her, whether she knew or not; she didn’t care about this though, there were things she had wanted to say for so long, and she was going to let him know.