The War with Peace

"Take my hand" he said to her, as he invited her to the dance floor; a realm familiar to the both of them. The masquerade of her innocence went well with the surrounding; a gathering of a hundred shadows, all suited up and well-dressed, exposing the reality of their existence by putting on the ever so convenient mask.
He placed one hand on her waist as her body tensed, while he held her hand with his other up in the air, at face-level. The dance begun, as they went along with the crowd, but they both knew that neither of them belonged there.
"How was your time away?" he asked, condescendingly.
"Exhilarating" she snapped, not taking more than half a second to respond, gaze fixed upon him.
           He knew how he made her feel with these things, but he couldn't help it. He hated her for rendering him so powerless. He hated the Creator for sculpting this piece of perfection, as if it were born to deceive. But they belonged how they were at this moment; hand held in hand, and a barrage of clandestine thoughts, unanswered questions and unspoken words, pushing them further away from each other. She always thought that he didn't understand why she did what she did. But of course he understood it. Did he? He'd said a lot more than he should, but words are all he had, after all. Rifts formed faster than they realised what happened, but he couldn't let her go so easily. For he was the whole-hearted half of her heart, while she was the half-hearted whole of his.
           Lush straight hair. Hazel-brown eyes. Puffy little butterfingers. And a personality of rock-salt.
A glisten of celest,
Moments led them apart,
An echo that swallowed the thoughts,
Nestled within her heart.

"Enjoying the distance that lies within our proximity?" she asked, as he brought her face closer to his. He lifted her then, going along with the crowd, as an 80s lady of a darker shade sang the melody of their presence.
"I won't fall this time" he replied, as he wrapped his arms around her waist while she stayed lifted and stared down upon him.
           He brought her down and they continued twisting and turning to the beat. She brought her lips closer to his ears as she spurted out,
"A downfall is coming, love. And you can't help but be in the middle of it. You will burn".
"Might as well take me for a pyromaniac" he said, ever so charmingly.
           He was an abomination for her. He was the storm she kept running from since she was a child. He was what she saw in the mirror when she felt least human. But she couldn't help it. She hated every bit of him, and hated the very fact that she was found by him when she was so lost. She adored his attitude, but hated his overconfidence. She did once think that he was everything she once desired. She knew she shook hands with the devil the first day that she spoke to him. But what she didn't realise is that when there's a fire around, jumping in ice will burn just as much. Difference is that it won't leave scars.
           Cavalier attitude. A strange half-smile. Eyes of an eagle. And the skin of a chameleon.    
Notoriously he looked,
As he waited for gravity.
Smiled at a stranger,
Instead he soldered with reality,
Remaining ever so ecstatic.

           They hated each other. And hated themselves for having loved each other. They danced away though, as it would all soon be over. They looked at each other, straight in the eyes with endless vindictiveness, as they melted away in emotion.
"I will be the cause of your fall" she said, with uncertainty in her eyes.
"While I knife you in the back" he replied.
           Moments of silence rolled by as they waltzed. What were they doing? They sighed on the inside. They cared for each other endlessly, but wouldn't dare admit it.
"After tonight", he managed.
"I concur. After tonight", she said,

as she sunk her head in his chest while he held her like he'd never let go.