I didn’t know what home was until I found him in the same one as me. He dripped cold water on my throat and watched it gather around my collarbone. He drank for my skin and ate from my heart. My soul, whatever left of it, was his reward.
We wasted our days away in the taste of scotch and the smokes of cigarettes. We sinned, we cried, we laughed and we talked. We talked while he ate away at my skin and we talked when I couldn’t tell his body from mine.
He owned me, body and soul. Every time his body touched mine, he unlocked a part of me I didn’t know. He had me by my heart. The world said he’s crazy to trust me. They said I’m a fool to love him. He didn’t give a fuck about anything. He claimed me in front of everyone. Bone to skin, heart to mind, he left nothing.
He murmured in my ears, all the things I wanted to hear. He left on my skin the proof of his love. I dug my nails deep into his back, marking him mine. I gave him what he liked. He showed me what I liked.
He wasn’t just a man, no. He was more. He was my existence reduced into a person. He was my God.
It was more than love.
Love doesn’t hold the power to destroy me.
It was magic, my personal hell.
It was my own galaxy