His soft decietful wiles carried with them an arogant armour to which my playful passes could not penetrate. His smile told stories of heartbreaks, his eyes were seeped in sorrow, his shadow left lovers shatted and unable to move. He was handsome, his hands were soft and when they climbed down my body they left a trail of pure ectasy. When I was with him I felt this unexplainable euphoria, but he was never fully present. His mind was elsewere and I would never be the one that he would commit to. His name was Dante, his words flowed out of his mouth drowning me with a stream of endless compliments, poetically spinning lies that were masked by empty promises. I knew nothing of his family nor his present situation, and yet I constantly opened my thighs for him.

My name is Emma. My thougths are trivial and my looks are often discussed across the town, I am priviledged, I am spoilt, my life has been easy and I have experienced no hardships. All these things mean I can have anything and anyone I want. But a girl can have someone and still never truely captivate their heart, not occupy their thoughts even when kissing their neck. I wanted to own him. Dante.

I met Dante in the summer whilst flowers bloomed in extravagant colours, my cheeks mirroring the same intense red of the dahlia's that surrounded us in that tiny park. He flashed a smile at me and I was putty in his hands. Now the dahlia's colour has faded and each is starting to frost over. 

I feel like a trophy, one to which my parents present at dinners and gala's, my face is cementedin this fake and patronising smile for the several hours to which these events last for, afterwards I retreat to my room only surfacing from my coccon to travel to school or to sneak out and see him. My parents dont like Dante, my Father grunts when he sees him and my mother makes a highpitched sound to which can be realted to that of an old kettle boiling. The reason for their prejudice is simple, he takes advantage of me, he doesnt value me or my families values. Its all completly true to be honest. But his dark curly hair was not all that attracted me to him at first, he had an aura about him, one to which signified my parents disapointment and disaproval. Now thats what left me pleading for more. You can judge me but what else can a lucky yet bored girl put in place to ruin her perfectly paved out life. 

Dante holds me after we make love, but only for enough time that I feel it as a common curtasy not an act of devotion and love. He whispers into my ear that he has to leave and quickly puts on his clothes, as if he had been anticipating his departure, he pulls a strand or two of hair behind my ear and clears off as fast as he came. I would like him to stay longer, to hold me longer to talk to me about his life.

He has a string of girls, most dont last as long as six months before he leaves them. He is a player. He is a master of deception, but does that make me desperate for falling for his half assed charms. He is forever changing like a map, each time I see him I am tiptoeing upon uncharted areas, carefully avoiding personal topics to which conjure up a red mist that blurs his vision and sends him into a fit of rage. He hit me before, he never apologised, just left, we dont speak about the bad times. I suppose it was my fault. I asked him the forbiden subject of his father. You see I wish I could tell you more about this beautiful boy, but i only know his features and ragesome characteristics.

The undeniable truth is that going out with a man such as Dante shows you two things. The first being that not all men will treat you like daddy's little princess, dont be careless with your body and who you allow near it, some men are just bad and thats the truth. 

The second being is that a man such as Dante teaches you more about yourself than anything. I learnt that I seek aproval from others even if they are not qualified to judge me. I have many issues but I must learn to respect myself and realize men like Dante can never be good for me and will only lead me down a long and winding road. 

His soft deceitful wiles tempted me, they distorted my view on myself and love, they caressed every insecurity I have ever had and squashed any confidence left in my tiny battered frame.

But no more.