Their language is unique because no words are needed.

Her smile tells him her resolve is already defeated.

They’re both aware that reality is just a turn of a doorknob away.

Reality is powerful but not as powerful as the intensity of their union.

“This has to be the last time,” she whispers, echoes in desire tainting the purity of her words.

“This can never be the last time because your touch will live forever in my heart.” Rubbing her face, embracing her tears he knew their love was flawed.

Images of her skin blurring the line between fantasy and infatuation.

Visions of his lips caressing the places saturated by her desire.

A love doomed can never prosper.

A love born of the night dies in the moonlight.

~ Demez F. White