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Contradiction
Her fingers were slender, but calloused, curled around the muscles lining his arms.
Her hands were pale, but tainted, resting against the warmth of his skin.
Her eyes were drenched in wine, but her gaze was doused with sobriety, looking up from the curve of his shoulder.
Her hair was soft like the voice of an angel, but darker then the wings of a raven, splayed out across his bed.
She was so contradictory in everything she was.
But she looked so simple to him now.
Now that he finally understood what it was like to love her.