I was a Scorpio, born in darkness. She was a Gemini, born of light. All I saw was the way she swayed in the moonlight.

    I'd always felt straight, but this girl made me weak in the knees. Love is always a weakness, and I needed to protect myself, yet, I was drawn to her. We met under the full moon. I was laying in a cool meadow, tarot cards spread. She was dancing, so gracefully; later I found out it was a ritual to find more love. Well, she found something.

    "Life is just another way of saying we've been blessed", she always said. The way her eyes lit up to sapphires when she said that made my heart glimmer, and I wanted nothing more than for her to be blessed forever. I knew it could never be. 

    She swayed the world of everyone around her with waves of joy, illumination, but she never knew the darkness hiding in the world. If she had one weakness, it was this niavete. Love was not a weakness to her, it was her strength, her guidance. She showed it often, in our intimacy and in her life.

    "Making love" is the old-fashioned phrase to describe sex in it's coupling capacity, however, what we had was more. I find that straight fucking is the most intimate form of intercourse, in the way it's so carnal, raw, intense, instinctual. We are all animals at heart, and nowhere better do we show our biological imperatives and urges than during sex. Two bodies, two souls grinding, moaning, pleasuring...this is what we were put here for, yet too good to last.

    It was a sunny day in May, her birthday. We were in the meadow where we'd first met when it happened. We heard the shouting from a distance, but told ourselves it was nothing. Only when they were closer did we react. We stood and turned around to see a mob; protesters. 

    "You don't want to see this, love. You really don't want to."

    "I don't know what you mean." Oh, she was so naive it hurt.

    "I'm going to take care of them before they hurt us, but you need to go away, now."

    "I won't leave them alone with you."

    "Go!"

    I looked ahead at the mob and saw the knives in their hands. As each one approached, I reached for them, snapping their necks. Crack, crack, crack. I heard her screaming, but I couldn't stop. People who hate, they didn't deserve to be blessed. As I finished the last, I saw her, shaking, sobbing, the naivete ripped from her. I knew what I had to do. 

    I walked over to her, and knelt down. "Sweetheart, you knew what I had to do and why." I had taken her, and she didn't deserve to be like this. This wasn't being blessed--it was a curse upon her, and I had to stop it. I caressed her face one last time, and finished her. She was gone.