Song: "Masochist" by Ingrid Michealson.
She said
You're a masochist for falling for me
So roll up your sleeves
Bella sat, curled in on herself, on the damp grass. I lay back, taking in the sweet scents, the springy wet foliage, the delicately budding flowers, then another floral scent, one that overwhelmed all the others. It was so exquisite it hurt my nostrils, stung sharply. It hurt, but I didn't want it to go away. The quiet was wonderful; I couldn't remember the last time I had been alone with no thoughts other than my own. And all that was in my head at the moment was her. She was so beautiful, her skin a gentle glow next to my ostentatious sparkle. I wanted to be with her just like this for the rest of my lingering life.
And I think that I like her
'Cuz she tells me things that I don't want to hear
Medicinal tongue in my ear
As I explained my abhorrent longing to her, I watched her calm face with wonder. Hardly a trace of fear. This extraordinary creature had twenty times the strength I could ever hope to imitate. Every second I fell more in love; I could feel a dull expectant ache in my chest, my dead heart jumping to entwine with her warmly pulsing one.
When will it stop?
When will it stop?
And that brought me back to the smell of her blood. I could hear it coursing through her veins, running like a stream of the world's sweetest water. I wanted to hold her, but I wanted even more to taste her. I knew, though, that in destroying her I would destroy myself. And I couldn't let that happen. I thought sadly of my own veins, dry and hardened like some ancient ruin of a once-lively city.
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel
Soft, soft?
She took my hand, tracing the lines of my palm with her own fragile finger. She was so small, so delicate, so warm. I didn't trust myself to move, didn't trust myself to take her in my arms, to feel her living skin melt into mine and make me human again.
You say
That my skin feels like no one else's
That it's different somehowShe looks up into my eyes and speaks. Her voice is a sweet tonic; I can feel it running smoothly down my throat and softening the hardened core of my being.
But I don't understand
Is your hand just a hand?
No, you don't understand
Her eyes are warm too, the soft brown reminding me of some long-forgotten sweetness that hangs at the back of my memory, tantalizing my senses. I lean in, I inhale; my lips part…
And I realize I'm not strong enough. I retreat.
When will it start—
My broken part?I try to scare her away. She sits calmly, waiting. My mind frenzies; I can't do it. I can't handle this new tenderness, the way my senses have reawakened. I was so good at being dull, so good at feeling the blandness. Bella was like some living medicine, bringing me back into full consciousness. I was so close to being alive again; it overwhelmed me.
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel
Soft, soft?
Her strength continues to astound me, and she starts to feel less breakable. I take her into my arms, testing this new durability. Still warm, still fragile, still unyielding. Still a mystery.
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel all soft on the inside?When will I feel
Soft, soft?
Still life. Frozen. Painted in soft, gently curving lines of color and light. If we never moved again, that would have been okay. It was unbearably sweet to feel life again.
She said
You're a masochist for falling for me.
A/N: First songfic. Opinions would be appreciated.