He gazed longingly at her as she meltinto her hair. It was snaking wildly along her neck,he noticed, and it poured from the tip of her crown to the center of his heart.
He was a touch away from her arms, oh her sweet, soft, delicate arms, and here he was, broken, shattered by those fragile eyes that stared and stared at him,asking why he was that close to her, close enough to hear his breath throbbing. And all he could say was nothing, and nothing conveys nothing more than that rigid frame being distant and awkward, and no, oh no, that wasnt what he wanted to say.
He wanted to shout, no, he wanted to scream, no, he wanted to scream and shout and dance and sing as he wanted to do anything to bridge that gap that stopped him from being her and from her being him. He wanted to move towards her and grab those hands that were attached to those dainty arms and answer those curious eyes. He wanted to breach those dark threads that hid more of her from him, and as he did with his fingers they would carress his digits as smoothly as her stabs were to his heart. He wanted to nestle his now strict, sturdy frame against her soft form, supporting her as she flexes as she curls as she thrusts those hands, those arms, those legs and those lips upon it. He wanted more than those heavy puffs upon her back, no he needed more as he needed to live and to live was to be her and her to be him.
And yet here he was, continuing being stiff while she continued her gaze. She continued her stabs and he continued being dead. Amongst the wheeze of the air con ducts and the heavy gleam of the room, there they were, her face, turned, raised towards his and his stooped towards hers as they glared incessantly at each other over her right shoulder, a touch away from each other
.She had always seemd weary as he slid behind her, over her as his shadow ate up hers. She had always wondered why, oh why, did he slowly make his way up her neck. His lungs huffed a breeze that furled from the sloop of her shoulders to the tip of her head. She wanted to know more because she needed to know more about him, about those wooden arms that were a touch away and those eyes, oh those mysterious eyes, that gazed at her with a slight quiver and a gentle spark.
She kept on peering, trying to peel through that skin to that flesh that was pulsing to her bare. She went on and on till a breach in that corpse appeard as her hair flew to the wisps of his breaths. his glares were filled with the tears from his chest,she noticed, and they poured out from the tip of his lids to the center of her heart.