Precious Things

Precious Things

hate

in the name of love

to protect

that which we hold dear -

mock

in the name of love

to push

that sacred emotion

into further enigma

it is the lies

that are the truths

to which we are beholden

for the sake of

love

A look here, a secret smile there. That's all they ever had time for. During brief interludes in the dank corridors, they would cautiously brush past each other. When caught, the look of deep longing turned to loathing, the smile to a stormy scowl, and the gentle touch to a hardy shove. But his eyes said it all, knew it all.

His beautiful malachite eyes that burned with want and love when he faced the other. But behind the stare of unforgivable sin, there was the darkening glint of knowing - knowing the consequences, the truth, and most of all, the reality. They had been sworn enemies before they themselves realized it, and for six longs years, they had kept up the masquerade ball. But during the last two years, they had suffered the most.

During the last two years, for every feeling of elation and true happiness, they were punished with twenty times more the bitter sorrow and realization. Every night, a mop of messy onyx locks lay against the pillow with the hardened sullen face pressed against the cotton cloth. And every night, a defiant boy with silken locks of golden silver curses his father and Satan and stared longingly out the window, wishing to be out there with him. Those chilling eyes, devoid of all, dropped their emotionless mask and the wishing and thoughts of him paraded across the features.

In the stadium, out on the field, when the graceful colorless hand shook the tanned masculine hand of the other boy's, each gripped the other in a symbol of lifetime's love. Such contact would leave them sustained for days and weeks, until they next laid eyes upon each other.

The undying, unquenchable love ran deeper than blood. Neither of them understood the laws of nature, the outline of life that had been laid for them thousands of years before. All they knew was that they wanted each other, needed each other. No other person could ever make them happy. They were happiest within each other's arms; the pale, unearthly beautiful arms encircling the weather-beaten chest. Delicate intakes of sweet and bitter air would release onto the translucent lids, gently stirring the wisps of platinum hair. And then the scarred child would fall into an open embrace of comfort. The softened gray eyes kissed the bruises, the hurts, and the memories away with one glance.

Hold me. Kiss me. Love me. The world is collapsing, the Apocalypse has come. Death has crossed the threshold of humanity; death is inevitable. Discovery is inevitable. But perhaps if you could just wrap your arms around me - perhaps humanity will not be so painful.

Only if we could put our arms around each other and trust in the name of love.