At his touch...

“I crave you in the most innocent ways”, he whispered to her neck.

Her perfume was made of wild berries, which reflected her spirit. But whenever he rested his head on her heart, he smelled serenity and sheer love.
She was a childhood house’s memories, a rainbow after a gray sky - she was everything beautiful.
And he was positive he’s loved her in lifetimes before.

They’d park by the seaside, roll down the windows, stretch their legs out and stare at the August night sky. Stars shone down on them, blessing their companionship.
They sipped hot chocolate, smoked and listened to the waves wrestling the rocks.
In moments like these, they could’ve sworn they were infinite.

They were fragile creatures, stitched with shattered hearts and broken promises.
Yet, together their scars faded away and pain became a mere memory. Side by side, they were Sultans, they were monarchs - they were invincible.
Without any substance or alcohol, they were highly drunk off each other. She was his very personal brand of drugs and he was her supply of euphoria.
At his touch, hurricanes rose beneath her skin. And her embrace intoxicated him.

However, he wasn't hers to keep and she couldn't belong to him.
They both were not whole. Parts of their souls were forcefully torn away.
They were debris of human beings, ravaged by life.

Their racing heartbeats spoke what their mouths failed to. Love required some falling and the two were too afraid of heights.