Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I..

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

It's all a mess of liner and mascara now. Dark blotches that are a marring feature on your smooth, dark skin. If I didn't know it was you, hiding there in the shadows of your own doubt, I would have merely just walked on by, my cold camera in my equally cold hands. Your shaking, sagging shoulders tell me the story of your pain and I feel a myriad of emotions for you; fear, sympathy, sadness, love topping them all. "Angel?"

You jump, your eyes darting back and forth in the dark light of the cold apartment, "Wh-what?" a shaky and shattered voice is what I am met with. It scares me in ways I can't explain. "Wh-who?"

"Mark…" I reply, stepping closer towards you, reaching out timidly. Your eyes stop their frantic search and land sadly on my own. I can almost read the emotions in your irises and feel the waves of hurt you feel. "It's just Mark."

"Oh…" you whisper, the rush of air filled with sharp disappointment. Another frantic scan around the room. I step closer until I am kneeling beside you, my camera lying dead in my palm.

"What are you searching for?" I ask.

"Angel…?" I whisper. You nod in recognition. I lift my hand slowly, a slight and steady tremor running through them, finding the tip of your delicate jaw. My fingertips touch your smooth skin like feathers; tickling. I lift your shadow-ridden face to meet my own and lean in daringly. Slow. Steady. Chapped and cracked lips meet their twins, holding their chilling tableau until the foreign warmth of another seeps in. Hesitant and frightened, you move your lips against my own, closing your once wide brown eyes. My hands find their own way from your thin, enticing neck to your warm, slight hips. It's all so beautiful.

Without a slight warning, your warmth abandons my own, leaving us both cool. You stare into my eyes… through me. There's your frantic searching again. Long moments of frantic searching and calculating, until finally your deep brown eyes stop in connection with my ocean blue eyes. "I think I've found it," you say, low and heavy. You grab my hand, pulling my camera from my grasp, and pull me close once again. This time you have no intention of letting go…