the salt of her tears
trickled through his
tongue
stinging on the cracks of
his lips like a
scorpion’s kiss
and it ached,
but he couldn’t stop.

tension melted through their
thighs, legs
tangled in what they
pretended, in the darkest
kind of night
was love.

and through the sobs she
forced a few
battle-weary cries of
lust,
while he pretended not to
notice the strain.

and when it was over
(each night less fulfilling
than the last)
he would fill his lungs with
puffs of lethal little clouds
and she would watch the
contours of his back
twist and heave in
breath—
though she could never quite see his face.

“love me?” she whisperbegged,
careful not to rustle the
pity-stained sheets
they both had come to
hate.

“almost,” he murmurshouted in return,

closing his eyes to the
mocking cracks in the wallpaper
“just give me one more night.”

---

A/N: This is just based off a strange mental picture I got the other day... not actual experience. So, to all of my real-life friends here on fictionpress, no need to come save me or anything. xDD