Loving him was never meant to be a simple thing. Then again, love itself was never so simple. In himself he was a contradiction. His nature was meant to be of absolute, irrevocable love. Meant to be man’s dearest friend, his very blood deemed it to be so. Though, his heart was another entirely. Detached, solemn, and stoic, all words that described the icy chill of his persona. What wars struggled inside him?
Would they be the same in my own heart if I were to love a demon? Ludicrous, it was an abomination, a disgrace to my title, to my species, to my heart. Woman was meant for man, and man alone. Yokai...they were not meant at all.
Denizens of hell, chained to a fate that shackled them at birth. He was spurned into darkness, and I am a wielder of light. But if it was meant, if our hearts, if our souls deemed it so, could I shed light to his darkness? Or would he snuff me out as a candle’s flame?
No, I can not imagine such a sadistic fate. If I truly did love him, then would not love be enough? Is it ever enough? Who am I to say, a young maiden tangled in the webbing of my own heart, doubting the one I yearn for.
Looking at him, a god a perfection, crying out with all of me, I still feel the doubt. It suffocates, drowns me. And then he is back, pulling me from the depths, holding me and coaxing the frozen waters from my heart.
Now he looks back, capturing me with eyes like the sun trapped in ice. He truly was a burdened beast, holding back all of himself as if he willingly accepted his fate of hell. Eternal torment could hold no flame to those eyes. Satan himself would bow down to such a man. And what if the entire world knelt down before such a man, could I open my arms and say, “Loving you was never meant to be a simple thing, but I have done this, and with all my heart I cry: Curse the angels and damn all of hell, let this moment be ours for no one to tell.”