I touched an angel last night
“Tell me,” I said
“The only thing I fear is numbness,” she replied
“Force me. Take me. I need a demon tonight.”
“Make me feel.”
And I did
I tore at an angel last night
I trapped her against the wall
and lightning leapt from my fingers to her skin
I tore strands of her hair with my fist
and she submitted so gracefully
I tore screams from her lips with my kiss
and she surrendered so hungrily
I tore chunks of her flesh with my bite
and she cried so sweetly
I tore tears of emotion from her heart
and she was so devastatingly beautiful
I held an angel in my arms last night
“You are different from everyone else,” she whispered
“I know,” I smiled and stroked her hair
I touched her
and drank her tears
I reached into her body
and into her heart
In my hands
she gasped for me
she shivered for me
she screamed for me
And she cried for him
For him
I touched an angel last night
and she belongs elsewhere
But she will never forget
the demon that touched her
And when she needs to feel again
I will return to tear at her body and her heart
in the night
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Aside from tearing chunks of her flesh (she only said it felt like I did), it is a true, albeit lyrical, account of last night. I learned of her existence last night, and I invaded her soul. And she showed me such indescribable beauty in her tears and her screams.
An angel will always be haunted by the memory of her own power and beauty at the hands of a demon, responding to his touch. Her very own magnificence will drive her back into the arms of the demon again and again. She can’t help it and neither can he, even though her devastating beauty burns his eyes and breaks his heart.