Awake, she was a masterpiece, however asleep, she was a wonderland. Her eyes were closed, her spiderlike eyelashes just barely brushing against the cream like skin of her face. Each sporadic freckle was a star, formed together they seemed to hold her together like staples, each small, dark dot adding completing her like the period of a sentence.
Her lips were plump and pink, like luscious fruits waiting to be bitten. Her hair was dripping down over in face like a chocolate waterfall, adding shadows and dimensions only a appreciator of the arts would notice.
She was far too beautiful of a being to be tied down to earth which held her. She was young, I knew that, but she was an old soul, she was ageless, ethereal in beauty, timeless. Every curve of her body, every dip, every self-declared flaw I found beautiful, perfect, masterful.
I remembered when similar thoughts had escaped my lips when I'd described Dorothy. I remembered the pain I felt when she'd left, a pain I'd drawn on myself with a steak knife in a single jagged line.
They'd thought I was depressed, they took my jeans replacing them with string less sweatpants, locking me in a windowless brightly lit room.
But I wasn't suicidal. I wasn't depressed, I was desperate, for her.
"I'll kill myself." I warned her, stood in the kitchen, the knife in hand as I watched her edge towards the door, a kitchen chair held up in front of her like a shield, the pattern of the wood backed furniture item casting shadows on her purple tinted skin.
I remember the string of insults she'd hurled at me, her threats to call the police and then I'd done it, laughing to myself as the scarlet liquid poured onto the tile floor. I remember the sound of her scream and then I'd woken up in the hospital and she was gone.
I thought it would make her stay, the possibility of her lover's demise, but it didn't happen. I never blamed her though, people are weak, self-preservation desperate creatures. Threatening my own life did nothing to ensure we remained intertwined.
I should have stabbed her, I realized that later, then stabbed myself.
We'd remain together then.
I fingered the cross necklace hanging from my neck.
I didn't believe in priests. Church. Tithing, or the believe that the color of your skin or the receiver of your affection somehow affected your status in the afterlife, however I believed in an after. A happily ever after.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Katy's melodic voice said quietly.
Smirking, I wished that the pillow she'd placed between us would and could somehow spontaneously combust.
"What time is it?" she yawned reaching up and rubbing her eyes, my gaze drifting down to the inch of stomach she'd exposed as her shirt had lifted.
"Late." I answered.
"When are we going home?"
I smiled, "Soon."
It was her turn to smile, "I missed Calum."
"Who?"
"Calum."
"Who is that?"
"My best friend."
"A boy?"
"Does it matter?"
"I think so."
"He's not like other guys. He's different. He's.... lovely."
