DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
No one had ever used sweet to describe him: asinine, persistent, bitter, and belligerent, perhaps, but never something made of sugar. Those days were long gone, drifting in amongst boyhood, before things became rotted and nefarious, before the world shifted and turned and revolved into its irreverent efforts, leaving behind the shells and vessels of decency, morals, and ethics. In reality, maybe he didn’t know what he was now, so used to lingering in bouts of ice and glacial walls, in tactics meant to keep everyone at bay, to hold them away, away, away, and no matter what he did, they all appeared to stay – wreaking havoc against his enclosures and tethers, his lines in the sand, in the snow, in the dust. Then he kept letting them in.Especially her, drifting in the furthest, touching and scorching and stitching back together the broken shards of a barbed, malicious soul, the blackened, warped enamel of an unholy heart.
The beast lifted his eyes to hers as she teased, residual taunting for equal measures and endeavors, a soft sigh billowing from his chest as her fingers resided there briefly, soaking in the play, in the warmth, in things he’d craved but never truly had, cherished, grasped. His features were less stone and rubble now, more exultant and revering, taking in the sun’s rays and raising his head to be consecrated and blessed in return; a muffled snort at her comments, but naught more. He accepted them, buried and hallowed in the corners of his ribs, in the maneuvering sway of his lungs.
Maybe one day he’d be worth all her laughter, all her devotion, all her warmth; tilting his head to smugly watch her curl away, eyes purposefully roaming on her legs. He gathered up the plates, pacing back and forth from the table to the sink, left the glasses in case either required more; peaceful, wandering along the repose as if he didn’t know what to do in it except ponder its mysteries and depths.
Then – there was the basket.
He must’ve looked like a youth, ruffian and rogue, the way he readily applied himself to her side the moment she thought to unearth the mysteries. Too curious, too inquiring, too much like a cat, the Cheshire grin unfolded again as she hastened to her wares, permitting the revelation to finally take place. The scents alone were deemed heavenly and ambrosial by his countenance, the aromas flooding his senses, lips licked with avaricious intentions. “Ah, this is what you fought for,” and there was something incandescently feral in his gaze, slightly hooded, as he riveted his attentions on her – lavished his appreciation. “Bested them all,” he smirked and snickered, lips pressed to her brow in a sudden bout of affection, while fingers slipped along the threshold, grabbing one of the muffins. Greedy, ravenous, a ridiculous sweet-tooth since he was an untamed thing running along coasts and squalls, Deimos bit into the contents, relishing and savoring the taste on his tongue with a covetous croon; no words needed.
Unite and spread the heart apart
