His mouth tasted like cigarette smoke and lies.
He told me of my beauty and the freckles in my eyes.
He held me like all the broken pieces could just be remade.
Out of his mind shone a darkness that enveloped me; that remained.

With teeth as sharp as the truth
he would kiss me through
to the otherness that is me.

With hands as lithe as the night sky
he would lead me toward sin;
toward the part of me always hidden within.

With lips as supple as the wings of a bird
he would whisper to me
"oh, my sweet, sweet love, just give in to me; just let it be."

And I did.

With each kiss.
With each touch.
With each whisper.
With each cigarette.

I gave in to him.
To sin.
To night.
To life.

He was the death of me but he taught me how to live.