Guilty and Beautiful

 

His hands wandered to my chin
drifting in midair gracefully as he lifted my face.
I couldn't look in his eyes,
couldn't bear to see the pain he suffered
all because of me.
His fixed gaze bore into my left jaw,
piercing, tightening, but still caressing,
painting me guilty and beautiful
in the same moment.
I felt like a demon, a witch, a monster,
like ancient dust at his feet
thinking of every promise I made to him,
and how I broke each one
right in his glance.
Still he was there,
one palm pressed to my exposed thigh,
the other against my darker cheek,
watching me, hurting where I could see,
and yet loving me as if I hadn't done a thing.