We were sitting on the balcony, you were smoking, I was sat on your lap, observing the blood-whose owner had perished today- that had dried in the creases of my hands.

I was scared of my gun so you handed me a knife instead.

It was night, I was only wearing my underwear as you liked seeing me in it.

"You don't even know how beautiful you look right now."

You whispered, the smoke of your cigarette dancing on the back of my neck.

Black lace, blood, disheveled hair- that was your favorite look on me. My favorite  look on you was so much simpler, just a smile, but not the one you gave me that day.