Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Author's note: Okay, this is a super small thing. More like a capture really. Anyway, tell me what you think, ok?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I always knew you would be the one to make me cry, but Gods help me, I didn't care.
I was foolish. Confused and consumed by lust, need, hot passionate thoughts that ticked off in my mind like a clock. It bubbled inside, like rage does and I couldn't fight it. I didn't want to.
Maybe I was a foolish child then. Too consumed with the hope of having someone loving and caring for me to think about how this would all make me feel. Too consumed with wanting to feel loved; accepted by you to worry about how it would all turn out.
I still have the bruises on my hips from where your fingers would dig in. Pain of passion. Sparks of annoyance. Remnants of lust.
I still feel your hands, caressing my skin, running a hand through my hair.
Your cherry kisses still make my mind spin, but your silken lips don't press against mine anymore. They are sheer memories.
I wake up sometimes and I swear I smell you. I smell your lust, your vanity, your intelligence. Its like a bad cologne and it was there to appeal to me, to pull me in and weave a web around me so I would be stuck, and weak and waiting for your words.
And I smell copper; blood.
Do you remember?
Oh, of course you do? How could you forget?
How could you forget the day that me, a person of such strong will fell down in front of you and gave in?
My lips bleed from your teeth, my hands trembled, my eyes would shut tightly and I would let you take me; rape me; abuse me; use me.
I was a fool then.
I suppose all girls are fools once and a while; consumed so much with the need to feel the love of a man that they let go of everything else.
They shut everything else out.
And Gods, I may be a fool, but I miss you.
I miss feeling your teeth rip through the skin of my lips; your hands traveling the continent of my body like two explorers in the dead of the night, cold air on my skin, moonlight caressing and shadowing.
I wish I could feel you again. Hold you, love you.
What a fool I am for believing that life really has happy endings.
But now, as you stand there in front of me, beautiful eyes watching me, your handsome face blank, hands shoved into your pockets in an almost nervous way; completely unlike how you used to be, I want to slap you and scream and cry and hold on to you and never let you go.
But all you did is ask how I've been.
So I shrug a little, tilt my head to one side and say, "Fine, Draco. Just fine."
Author's note: Okay, this is a super small thing. More like a capture really. Anyway, tell me what you think, ok?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I always knew you would be the one to make me cry, but Gods help me, I didn't care.
I was foolish. Confused and consumed by lust, need, hot passionate thoughts that ticked off in my mind like a clock. It bubbled inside, like rage does and I couldn't fight it. I didn't want to.
Maybe I was a foolish child then. Too consumed with the hope of having someone loving and caring for me to think about how this would all make me feel. Too consumed with wanting to feel loved; accepted by you to worry about how it would all turn out.
I still have the bruises on my hips from where your fingers would dig in. Pain of passion. Sparks of annoyance. Remnants of lust.
I still feel your hands, caressing my skin, running a hand through my hair.
Your cherry kisses still make my mind spin, but your silken lips don't press against mine anymore. They are sheer memories.
I wake up sometimes and I swear I smell you. I smell your lust, your vanity, your intelligence. Its like a bad cologne and it was there to appeal to me, to pull me in and weave a web around me so I would be stuck, and weak and waiting for your words.
And I smell copper; blood.
Do you remember?
Oh, of course you do? How could you forget?
How could you forget the day that me, a person of such strong will fell down in front of you and gave in?
My lips bleed from your teeth, my hands trembled, my eyes would shut tightly and I would let you take me; rape me; abuse me; use me.
I was a fool then.
I suppose all girls are fools once and a while; consumed so much with the need to feel the love of a man that they let go of everything else.
They shut everything else out.
And Gods, I may be a fool, but I miss you.
I miss feeling your teeth rip through the skin of my lips; your hands traveling the continent of my body like two explorers in the dead of the night, cold air on my skin, moonlight caressing and shadowing.
I wish I could feel you again. Hold you, love you.
What a fool I am for believing that life really has happy endings.
But now, as you stand there in front of me, beautiful eyes watching me, your handsome face blank, hands shoved into your pockets in an almost nervous way; completely unlike how you used to be, I want to slap you and scream and cry and hold on to you and never let you go.
But all you did is ask how I've been.
So I shrug a little, tilt my head to one side and say, "Fine, Draco. Just fine."
