HIM.

Pure derangment lurks in the gaze, void of mortal attachment or concern. That's what identifies us...

I still remember my first. Guarded eyes, dark hair, nice teeth.. Perfect hands stuffed deeply into his pockets against the freezing night. I had to HAVE him. I needed his body to be mine and mine alone, so I stalked him through the howling winds and heavy snowfall. He entered an alley illuminated by a singular streetlight, florescent and flickering. The walls on both sides blocked some of the loud gusts making it possible for him to finally hear my approach. He swiftly glanced back at me and from his expression, it was clear that he understood my intentions. Well.. He understood ONE intention, definitely. He broke into a full sprint away from me. I slowed to a leisurely pace, marvelling at how pristine the snow undisturbed by his panicked footprints was, so confident in my ability to make him mine. I rounded the final curve, locking eyes with him- his, frenzied and pleading. Mine, hollow as two bird bones. He didn't feel the same. He didn't want me, but I was his gift. I was pure carnality on two feet with a bow made of virulence knotted around my neck and HE- with the ivory ground beneath our feet now steeming from his leaking red -he was my awakening. Those guarded eyes suspend in formaldehyde and that dark hair retains his scent in a vacuum sealed bag.Those nice teeth clatter within a jar like a makeshift infant's rattle. And those perfect hands... Those perfect, perfect hands... are MINE to hold forever. I'll always remember my first.