Teach Me to Tango
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
616
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
616
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Teach Me to Tango
A/N: there's more where this comes from, be prepared.
Teach Me to Tango
The sound of the violin cuts into you like razorwire, doesn't it? Sooner or later, you'll give in. No one stands the pain for long.
Through the red mst of passion, there comes pain. The two are inseparable, but so close that the lines are blurry to all but the most sensitive. Sometimes, someone comes along who knows what real pain is, and knows what it's like to be complete in the most intimate sense. And to them, it hits so much harder, and it always knows exactly where to punch to bring you to your knees the fastest.
As you close your eyes, the pictures race back into your mind's focus, and for the first time in days, you can let it show. You can let the hot, salty tears flow into the pillow and soak it, and let the hallow gasps whisper between your lips, reaching out like ghostly arms to wrap you in a cold shiver. You can't forget the scenes, playing incessantly like a broken record. There comes the lick of freezing air when the hot tremors leave off, for the one second when your mind is blissfully blank.
No one stands the pain for very long...and though you've weathered it for so many years, it feels like you've spent a lifetime in regret's cold hands, there's always more to come. There's always water for the drowning men.
Teach Me to Tango
The sound of the violin cuts into you like razorwire, doesn't it? Sooner or later, you'll give in. No one stands the pain for long.
Through the red mst of passion, there comes pain. The two are inseparable, but so close that the lines are blurry to all but the most sensitive. Sometimes, someone comes along who knows what real pain is, and knows what it's like to be complete in the most intimate sense. And to them, it hits so much harder, and it always knows exactly where to punch to bring you to your knees the fastest.
As you close your eyes, the pictures race back into your mind's focus, and for the first time in days, you can let it show. You can let the hot, salty tears flow into the pillow and soak it, and let the hallow gasps whisper between your lips, reaching out like ghostly arms to wrap you in a cold shiver. You can't forget the scenes, playing incessantly like a broken record. There comes the lick of freezing air when the hot tremors leave off, for the one second when your mind is blissfully blank.
No one stands the pain for very long...and though you've weathered it for so many years, it feels like you've spent a lifetime in regret's cold hands, there's always more to come. There's always water for the drowning men.