Crave
I.
When you meet him for the first time, he has a waxy, red apple in his right hand and a box of cables and knick-knacks tucked under his left arm, so he bites into the fruit and briefly holds it in his mouth to shake your hand. When he lets go and pulls the apple from his mouth, he smiles impishly, as if he knows how it makes him look, as if his gift and grace to the world is to be committed to memory — to be remembered for later and ever after. You blink and think of skin and teeth, of wicked shadows and moonlight, of divinity.
You blink, and his smile widens.
He knows.
II.
You spend your whole life thinking you might fall for the kind of boy who tumbles into your room at twilight and chases his own shadow; who, when he pauses long enough to catch sight of you, stops to see you until you’re luminous and translucent and every bit as curious and lovely as he believes you are; who shares a pinch of diamond dust with you and takes you on otherworldly adventures to a distant star.
But the boy you really like is all wolfish grins and bright eyes, a little smoke and mirrors, dropping breadcrumbs to draw you closer until he becomes more vivid, more real, so that when you try to retrace your steps and create necessary distance, all your efforts lead you right back to him.
III.
You’ve kissed enough people to know that sloppy and too much tongue feels like suffocation; you hate the ones that feel too stiff and static because it makes you feel like the purpose of your existence is to wait and be kissed.
Your favorite kind has always been feverish and intense and impulsive, the kind that leaves you stupid and dizzy and weightless that you can’t help but dissolve into air and crystals.
Before he kisses you for the first time, he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, and his gaze darkens. You think of wild seas and fierce hurricanes devastating everything in its wake.
Here, with him, you are everything, and all you want is to be devoured.
this was originally (tentatively) titled “anti-fairytale,” and i had a longer concept going for it, but my muse is a total dictator. hah. further comments on blog if you’re so inclined, just because i talk too much.
