I know a fear that no one should fear for a long time. The fear of losing a lover, a partner. Someone that you intemetly share your whole entire being with, and with that, something that you would never trade, not even for a million bucks!

Feelings that are constricting, claustraphobic, nausiac. They’re all too real sometimes. You love him, you like him, you’re jealous of others who may steal him, he’s yours. But yet, he hurts you, not physically, not as such mentally but emotionally. He steals your strength, and feeds it back to the earth, he takes your last remaining brave face and shatters it on the floor as if it were only a mask. And he takes your heart, and soul, and with one, small, inflected had, cradles them. Holds them close to himself looking neither pleased nor soured. Standing with blaze of brilliant light that could blind a hawk, but you see clearly that he nestles them, like a child, tredding carefully, trying to not hurt them.

But he has decision over your being now. Your soul, your heart. You will now never be able to decide upon which path your heart takes, because he is now its owner. Your soul although connected to you by some untanglable cord, looks happier in his arms than it ever would in your arm. And he looks at them lovingly, happily.

What you haven’t noticed about this beautiful creature, are his spikes. His sharp needle like spikes sticking out of him in places you didn’t notice before. Hands, arms, back, legs, head. Things that now make your heart look dangerously close to being punctured, dangerously close to being torn apart into peices by a mistake, a slip of the hand, a misdirected hug. Your soul already looks comfortable with the spikes, knowing it can never be truly harmed by mear spikes, but still, it looks worried for the heart. The heart it’s however trusts this spiked, beautiful being more than you would want it to. Trusts it to the point where it would let him pierce it through and through and still be in love with him.

But as you watch again, his spikes recied away from it, stopping the heart getting torn, and heart. Keeping it cradled more and more gentle in the slender hands of this pale God. This God of Chaos and Torment. Of Love and Ferouer. His gracefulness alone is enough to knock the wind out of a Goddess so beautiful, and dark.

His name is known, but unkown, and there is nothing about this beautiful, magical being that isn’t worth finding out, and worth fighting for. He is your protector, and your damager. He is the one that wears your heart on his sleave, and he is the one that without a seconds thought, would shield you from an arrow aimed at you, your heart, your soul.