He can only see her as being pure. She wanted to cry. He held her in his arms forever, making it clear that he wanted her and only her. All of their bad feelings are gone, and the beauty of their relationship is leaking everywhere, infecting anyone nearby. Or maybe it infects only them. Lips were always each others, warm embraces their's as well. His hands coiled around her tiny digits and the chest she so often rested her hands upon, they were all her's too once again. They fought past the tainted pieces of touch that were once so sacred (and always are) to find the clarity that was always familiar. They saw each other naked, they saw everything.

I want a spork right now, a white, plastic spork. I'm sure I could find one somewhere. I'm too lazy to get up. I sit in filth, in disturbance caused by my own mind. Why won't it just leave me alone?! I can't breathe.