the light was dim and pale yellow, like dog piss, and her skin looked like wax beneath it.

the hollows of her eyes were decorated with vaseline tears - grease stains that shone in that flourescent angel light - and the dark matting of spiderwebbed eyelashes. her dark brown doe-eyes had never looked so beautiful as they did now, glossed over with apprehensive tears that stuck fast to corneas.

a skeletal finger trailed down the subtle slope of her jaw, the blunt fingernail skirting against flesh and shovelling off clumps of dead skin cells that would bury underneath his nail bed and rot for days to come. his fingertip ended its journey just underneath the point of her chin and it pushed upwards. her head compliantly rolled up - those eyes looking everywhere but at him.

"nightmares are prettier than you." adoration laced every word, drizzling outwards and dappling her with the tiny red beads of his throbbing love. the erotica of his sentence caused her chest to swell and heave, gasps clinging to the walls of her throat as her larynx warbled in up-down, up-down motions.

his lips, once a solitary unit, parted to release his words which were streams in the air - cruel fingers that curled towards the pale yellow light that flickered and buzzed, an electronic bumblebee with barnacle wings. bottom and top bumped against each other before his sweet velvet tongue slid from the warmth of his mouth and rolled against the drying skin of his thick mouth.

he pressed a wet kiss to her forehead, sheened with sweat, and chased away the salt film with delighted laps and slurps.

his fingers once again crept over her jawline like prickly spider's legs, his palm firmly cupping delicate jaw. the warmth swelled beneath it and he could feel her pulse beat against his hand - her pretty skin erupted in crimson heat.

her eyes looked to the ceiling where a moth bounced against a lightbulb, its wings beating furiously - soundlessly - and she smiled vaguely as his silk lips crawled down her pulsing neck.

"i don't love you," she finally said. her heartbeat picked up to thrum against her chest, rapidfire and quicker than the quicksilver movement of a hummingbird's wings.

his tongue danced circles on her skin, so warm and inviting, and he chuckled. "that's okay. you don't have to."

they woke up the next morning with the dirt under their nails and in the chambers of their heart and neither was weighed down with the fledgling sin of guilt.

...titled 'vague' for a reason. up for interpretation. review, please.