The Fight and the Flee

There isn't anything we could do. 

A crash, a bang.

A clenched fist around a bleeding heart. 

There wasn't love in the actions.

Only hate and conceit fueled the fight. 

The flee.

A dark night was the only consuming element.

A moment of fear and bliss whispered through the night.

Into an ear, the winds roared secrets. 

Lust so pure it was almost humorous. 

She clawed at the clothes of the night,

Ripping shreds of her innocence as she went.

It was almost a ritual of falling down and standing up.

She loved the rise and fall of her heart,

The rush in a kiss, 

The inhumanity in a fight.

It thrilled her.