She bends down and presses her lips on mine. This is the moment I've been waiting for all day. The gentle touch. The soft exploration. The moment of tranquil bliss. Her kiss is a trap I willfully allow myself to fall into. She presses her body against me and allows our kiss to deepen.
Silence before the storm. Bliss which will turn into pain before the night is done, both given to me by her in equal measure.
And so the game begins again. She is an addiction, giving me just enough to keep me wanting for more, then taking everything from me when I'm most vulnerable. She will drag me down to Hell with her and I will gladly let it happen.
I'm setting myself up for a bad fall, this much I know. What I've gotten myself into can't last. But as it stands, I ache for her to be with me, as cruel and dangerous she may be and as badly as she may treat me. I make no illusions that I could in any way 'save' her. But I can't let go of the ridiculous hope that, perhaps, she could one day love me as I love her.
Through her, I learned what a cruel and twisted thing love can be.
So endlessly more cruel and twisted than Ophelia could ever be.