eltonj0hn:

He remembered them never leaving this room once upon a time. Their bodies wrapped tightly under the white sheets. These four blank walls, were a sanctuary. The room filled with the sent of her perfume. Now the room smelt stale and cheap. He wanted to only remember her breathy kisses, that shade of coral lipstick. It would be left on his lips and in delicate trails down his body, as if she was marking her territory. She was so wild, a lioness. He felt privileged he could tame her enough to get her to spend Sunday mornings in bed but that soon turned into a passionate power struggle. She made him brave, he was an only child with an overbearing mother. He was infatuated, like she had infected his bloodstream. He loved the way she used the word cunt as a term of affection, the way she pressed the button on the traffic lights after she’d crossed the road, they way she left lipstick marks on glasses. He couldn’t function without her, she was heroin. But she needed him, more than he would ever need her. She craved stability. He taught her to appreciate standing still for a while and letting the world be busy. There is a certain pleasure in doing absolutely nothing.