Warning: This work has been rated 16+.
I kept thinking to myself what if it didn’t have to be this way, yet I forget that hope doesn’t exist for me anymore. The word love, it once felt warm between my lips, but now… now it was something vicious, nothing but a bitter hate that boiled within me, ready to melt my flesh and bones. What love meant to you, is no longer in my dictionary. Saying the word now penetrates my tongue with a venomous disgust, its toxic fumes rise and pierce my eyes, leaving them to drown. What love is to you is nothing but a filthy lie to me.
Nor this: window
Nor this: dagger
Have you ever heard of a story, a story about a window that was cracked by it’s own will? Well this window was pure, and innocent, once clean from the sins of the world.
This window was clean until she opened up and saw you. You revealed to her love, You revealed to her hope, and exposed her feelings that she could no longer conceal. You cradled her within your wings, obscuring your face within a mask, whispering nothing but repulsive lies. Yet, she believed you. Months had passed, and you adored her, loved her, lusted her, missed her, needed her, wanted her, possessed her, trapped her, abused her, raped her, hated her, destroyed her. It wasn’t enough it was never enough, so you pulled off the mask showing your true face. Your dagger pierced her with threats, you enjoyed the taste of her and pain, you enjoyed watching her tears ooze down and crack the glass. You killed her.
Love is the name that stains all victim’s lips. It intoxicates you, adores you, then betrays you. It sinks it’s blades into our hearts. “Victims aren't we all.”