Tortured Dove

He begged her from across the room with his eyes.

Shaking, she stared back.

‘I can’t,”

He was beside her now.

Coaxing her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

She hesitated, her mind racing with fear.

‘No, no, you can’t become too close,’

Each kiss he bestowed upon her stabbed her heart with a new blade,

Freshly sharpened.

Her blood turned to fire.

If this hurt so much,

Why did she want him more?

Her hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, showing authority.

‘Damn it! Stop!’

His hands tangled up in her hair,

And she didn’t stop him there.

‘You’ll regret this!’

Falling in was easy.

It was being dragged out that left 

The damage.

Saline drips from her tired eyes as she thinks back.

All the blades are real this time, crying out to her.

‘Take your pick, darling. But, my personal favorite,’ 

Taking a short dagger in her hands,

Closing her fingers around it, she accepts it.

Her beautiful tragedy was a surprise.

Confusion was muffled by the sound of sobs (or were there any...?)

He showed up before the stone and kissed the wet ground.

His lips tingled, like he had kissed the entire ocean.

‘You need to stop crying. It’s over, sweet girl.’

Clawing at the clouds, she desperately wanted to see.

You see, her poor soul only wanted love.

Even if it was from a tortured, pathetic dove.