She was beautiful. The soft rays of moonlight filtering through the velvety curtains of the open window cast streaks of light across the room. The petals of light born from the union of moonlight and candleflame only deepened her ethereal beauty. A soothing, warm breeze played catch around the lavish room. Curtains and flowers gently danced and the wind pleased. It playfully played tricks on the feeble flames and childishly chased the shadows through the furniture. She was beautiful. Her long gun-metal hair flowed past her shoulders like waves of silver lullaby by the sea breeze. A small movement, just a slight caress, and a twist, almost invisible. She was elegant. Even when wearing what she wore at birth she was elegant. A cold and indifferent elegance. One that melted only for me. A faraway and unreachable elegance. One that only I could feel between my arms. A beautiful and brilliant elegance. One that only shined for me. She was beautiful. Her porcelain skin, milky and unblemished, glistening in the moonlight. Only the faintest traces of sweat ran down her slender back, hiding under the soft white sheets of her bed. The graceful and alluring mixed together so masterfully that every one of her actions, every detail of her being, appeared purposeful. My feeling, an incoherent cauldron of chaos and wishes. Shouts and songs sang in my head, asking me, begging me to act. To do something. I could not. For she was simply too beautiful. And yet, she was my poison. The soft touch of her slender fingers tracing lazy circles on my naked chest. Electricity pumping my willing heart by that lady’s will and orders. The tender feeling of her soft lips on the skin of my neck and shoulder. Scorching hot were the marks she left on me. Scalding, as their warmth slowly faded, leaving me longing for more. They burned through skin and bone, muscle and tissue, just so that warmth could bring my blood to its boiling point. The numbness in my outstretched arm from where her head rested. It spread slowly, like the coldness of a winter morning when one’s forced to leave the comfort of their bed. Feeling her weight, the pressure of her being so close to me, it hurt. It hurt so good. A stark difference in comparison to my face and chest. She was beautiful and she was poison for I could both live and die for her. Her piercing green eyes, globes of emerald, gems of spring, met mine. Unflinching, unfazed yet warm. Only with me would she share that look. My eyes unfocused and her face became a painting of a summer night. So strong was the hold that lady had on me, I had forgotten to blink. “What a devilish young lady” I whispered softly, carefully, as the corners of my lips curled up into a dumb smile. She blinked twice, purposefully. Fluttered her long eyelashes and chuckled softly, not caring to cover her mouth as a noble lady would. My heart nearly fell as I once again heard her mirthful laughter. “So says the commoner that stole a noble lady’s heart…How inconsiderate” She replied in a whisper as she dragged one of her nails softly over my chest, then neck, and finally Adam’s apple where it stopped to trace slow circles. She was poison. My poison, and I, like a fool, was utterly addicted to it. Ever since when did I start seeing her as beautiful? I cannot fathom. I cannot remember. Months ago, at best. From the very start, probably. I just hadn’t realized. How could I? She was cunning as a snake and graceful as a white fox. And I? Despite all, naught but a pawn in her machinations. A piece among the countless hundreds on the board. I could still remember vividly her declaration: “I’ll make you mine-” The young lady had declared as I was about to leave the battlefield, bloodied, tired and alone, again “- I will rid you of yourself. Take everything that is yours and make it mine. My own drugged-up lover. And I shall be your drug!” A selfish desire of a selfish young lady from a selfish but respectable house. A simple, possessive desire that would further her own goals. One that needed a chesspiece as rare and broken as I was, as I am. At least that is how it was supposed to go. And it did go as she predicted. I fell. I fell for her. I fell for her advances. I fell for her haughty charm. Fell for her touch, her voice, her warmth, for every kind word. I fell in love with her. Slowly and oh-so-painfully aware of it. Aware at all times that, like a fool, I was falling, that I was sinking deeper yet unable to stop myself from wanting more. She was beautiful. She was poison. And she was victorious. But, alas, he who touches poison must be at all times aware that poison can also touch them. She did not. Her carelessness brought her ruin. The more she made me fall for her, the more she fell for me. Two drowning men dragging each other down. A blade sharp on both ends. A blade that stabs the heart of the victim and the murderer alike. That is love. That is our love. I became her reason to live and she became the heart I was so desperately searching for. My duty, my curse, my status, my goal…all forgotten. The people I left behind became the shadows of cherry trees on our walks. The blood I spilled in the name of my dream became flower petals consternating the soil she walked on. Dicentra formosa and white chrysanthemum. My dream became her name. My wish became her lips. My duty, her smile…My curse? The very beating heart she gifted me. And I…I will become the curse that eats away at her smile. I did not care for the ones that called and begged for my name that night. I did not care for the blades sharpened, thirsty for my lifeblood that night. I did not care for the armies raised against my name that night…That night. That night I did not care for the flame of my dwindling life. That night, she was all I was and all I had. My heart, flesh and soul bared naked for me to embrace. That was my duty, my curse and my poison. As I felt the last vestiges of my life desperately clinging on to whatever of me was left, the poison ate away at my breath. I saw her eyes gently fluttering under her eyelids. She was nestled on my neck. Her breath, on my jugular, just like her heartbeat was warm and steady. It was calming. She was smiling. A soft, almost imperceptible smile filled with grace. I may have just imagined it, but if it truly was a delusion, then I welcomed it warmly. I kissed her forehead, one last time. I moved her hair and kissed her forehead, one last time. My body felt cold compared to hers, so much so that I was afeared of stealing her warmth. “Thank you-” I whispered as I caressed her flowing hair in a herculean struggle “-thank you, for allowing me to live a little while more…I’ll always love” All strength left me. My limbs froze in a cold embrace. My vision darkened and my breath sank. Her weight on my neck disappeared. The poison broke loose from my core, running wild through my veins and blood as I allowed it to, all the way up to my brain. I closed my eyes. In my mind…her smile was the last thing I saw. * * * * I woke up alone. The bed was warm with heat but for some reason, it felt cold. Something was missing, though what it was I could fathom. I dared not to, nor did I wish to. “Good morning” A sweet, melodious voice chirped. There, in front of the window, wearing nothing but a borrowed shirt too big for her, stood a clearly noble lady. Her hair was slightly disheveled and she wore no makeup, but the grace, the elegance were still there. She was beautiful, undeniably so…and yet. “Who are you?” I asked dumbfounded and my lips dried and my mouth filled with bile. An icy, invisible hand chocked my breath away. Her smile, previously warm and radiant, faltered and disappeared. A single, lonely tear fell and painted a wet streak through her cheek and chin. I did not know why but petals of purple hyacinth bathed my thoughts.

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