Illicit

And I'd give up forever to touch you,
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow.

He'd begun to depend on her. She'd become a drug, one that got him through the day, and yet he would never truly own her. It was wrong to think about owning her, she was her own person, and the harder he held onto her, the more she slipped away. Even so, he took care to touch her, mainly to prove that she was real, and it scared him that their nights had become to important.

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now.

The nights they spent together were never long, full of tenderness and beautiful nothings. No, it was hard and fast, licking, kissing, biting, until they came together, he biting his lips to stop all he was feeling taking word form, and she screaming his name. Then they would lie together, breathing hard, until it begun all over again.

And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.

He'd be able to taste her the rest of the day, her lips and body. He was unable to get rid of the scent of her, sultry and heavy, and it clung to him like a fog, unbearable and as the day wore on, he needed her more and more, until she finally arrived, and the vicious circle begun again.

And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.

The secrecy bore down on him, but there was no way he could tell anyone. He'd be shunned, and she'd be killed, and he was hoping this War would end with their lives still intact. As much as he hoped for a life with her afterwards, he knew she didn't love him- he knew she used him for sex, a way to relive a hard day of killing people, murdering them. He knew what she did, knew there were others like him, but she had a way of making him forget everything.

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,
Or the moment of the truth in your lies.

He hoped she would stay at the end of every night, but she never did, and to him, that was the worst of it. The more she left, the harder it became, until now it was impossible for him to cry over it; he knew what she was doing to him and he knew she was never to be his.

When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.

He began to feel like he was in Hell. It must be, this pain and suffering, this war, both outside, and inside himself. How could his life still be going on, when there was a gaping hole in his chest? And yet he looked at his arms, red scars glaring at him, and knew he was alive. Maybe, he thought, as the knife that he drew across his wrist dug into the skin, drawing blood, but offering less and less relief the more he did it, maybe life is no better than Hell.

And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

To everyone else, love was splendid bliss, a relief, with someone who could make you forget everything with a touch. Her touch merely brought more pain, and it was as though it burnt him. Every time he came inside her, his head screamed "STAY! MAKE HER STAY!" and his mouth filled with blood as he tried to stop himself from letting her know what he was thinking.

And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.

Theirs was an illicit romance, and every night ended with the same word.

Goodbye.