Destruction to a Point of Madness

She loves him best in May, June and July, when his sun kissed melanin skin glistens like bronze paint stuck in a can of gold. He mesmerises the eyes that trusts its gaze upon him demanding it’s undivided attention. Exhausted with the obsession she has developed, she rests her chin into the cavity of his shoulder blades. Their feverish breathe intoxicates the humid air leaving it drunk by the depths created by their eyes. She swore by the crescent moon, it’s the word of God against hers. Like a cast-iron bell that rings between heaven and hell, her flawless diamond eyes hummed echoes of sighs. He listens to a million lies, watching her burn in the lines of fireflies with his love frozen in her eyes. As if the heat wasn’t enough, she burned through the summer of May, June and July; tracing a thousand golden streaks with elements of water and fire. In the holy month of Ramadan he was the crescent moon that blanketed her as she lit the skies like fireworks during Diwali. Watching his face, she knew she would do it a thousand times over and over again until destruction did not feel like madness.

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