when I looked at her.

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A snow flake, stuck on a lash, she cradled my face and blew. 
With it, floated, the thoughts I carried, buried, hidden, always visible. 
Her hands, a slight breeze of every fruit in every forest, reached the nape of my back clenching a fistful of hair. 
Memorising my every feature. Her eyes demanded my attention. 
I wouldn’t dare give in.
Look at me she whispered, so close to my ear, her breath, so warm, too warm, my blood raged, my heart gave in.
My lids rested upon my sight, so scarred, so terrified. 
I wouldn’t look her in the eye. 
Because if i did, she would see, all of me, and I loved her too much to turn her into a masochist.
I fear the touch that unravels me, I fear the home I found buried in every inhale I took around her. I fear the skin, a touch a way, too far to kiss. I fear her hands, on my throat, wrecking me. I fear the shiver in my veins. I fear the kiss, she blew, on lips, so hungry to have finally breathed. 
With my eyes still shut, I saw her, ripping away, my every veil. 
Her hands slid and fled. Waiting for mine, to bring them home.
I was undone, broken into particles of her, as she wore me like a ring.
Her tongue, painted pictures of black and blue, as it roamed every inch of myself I ever knew. 
There and then, my body, became her canvas. An armed field she took pleasure in disarming. I tried, to hide the scars, but in truth, much of my flesh, told a story of a survived encounter. 
She drew, with that tongue a sketch of my every wound. 
Inhaling my every sense, she took even the memories away.
In a moment that seemed to pause every aspect of space and time, I was sculpted, I was created.
We made art, that night, with my eyes shut. 

She brought to life a masterpiece, unravelling, in me, everything she ever dared to fear.

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