we had lost our sanity in the night,
blowing smoke from our lips.
the taste of you is still sweet on my tongue.
and we’re an explosion,
bright for a moment and then gone.
we cannot find what we live for.
sweat drips off bare bodies being pressed together,
like melting wax from a burning candle.
there is a grace period where we can
fit in our sanity, just for a short time.
sand slips past knuckles,
satin sheets gripped in fists.
grinding teeth against slurs,
we leave our fingerprints
on an empty pill bottle.
Cam – version one:
his hands grip her arms firmly, pulling her closer to him. the veins and muscles show on the top of his hands, his knuckles white and his fingers to leave bruises on her skin from how hard they’re pressing into her skin. the muscles in his arms show through the denim of the jacket he’s wearing, the wind blowing hard against his red wings, with a tint of blue along the edges to express the faint flicker of anger he’s feeling. his left arm wraps around her waist, his fingers tracing the small of her back. his eyes are closed, shaded over with a faint purple color because he hasn’t slept in days. his lips part touching her, soft at first. his nose is slightly crooked, straight until the edge of the bridge where he’d been kicked in the face too many times. his nose is upturned only barely, giving him a stubborn appearance—which would be correct. his eyebrows are slender and long, thick but not overgrown. not sculpted, but natural. his hair is short and choppy, brushed forward to hide his slightly larger-than-normal forehead.
Jace – version one:
his fingers are long and calloused against the blade. his knuckles stand out against the thin metal as he runs his fingertips along it like stroking an animal. he is gentle with it. his sword is a piece of him. his lips are parted as he looks away, his tongue touching his upper lip and hiding his teeth. his hair is long and dirty blond on the shadows, pieces hanging down by his ears and brushing his shoulders. his eyes are sharp, a striking sky blue against the brown leather of his tunic. his body leaning back, his chest fills out his clothes, thin and agile, as is the rest of him. his shoulders are tense, pointing inward, as if he’s bracing himself for an attack from behind. his eyebrows are furrowed, causing creases to be seen against the smooth skin of his forehead. his cheeks and mouth remain stoic, showing no other sign of emotion besides pure focus. his nose gently slopes down, remaining parallel to his face to the tip of his nose. his neck muscles stand out given the way he’s turning his head, his gently curving jawline starting just below his ears and swooping down to lay flat underneath his chin. the distinct line of separation between jaw and skin is stark in the light he’s standing in, making his jawline appear more sharp and present than usual. his ears are flat and small against the side of his head, but keen. his elbow is jerked back, his arm tracing up to his hand still touching the blade of his longsword delicately. his left hand grips the hilt loosely, his fingers plainly not gripping it firm enough. his thumb presses over his fore and middle finger, the nail smooth and curved underneath his touch.