she tore my heart from my chest and held it in her bloody hand before my face.
however, the shock did not appear on my face.
you see, she forgot the human heart continues to beat outside of its host.
however, the shock did not appear on her face.
you see, she forgot the careless sadism and realized what it was.
a tear fell from her eye.
i died, yet my heart lived.
continuing to throb in her hands.
One word does the work. She'll not even think about what's she's doing
while she's doing it. I see it to this day. More pain inflicted. I bare it
and turn away thinking the pain is worth the few and far between moments of
pleasure. I turn away and head downstairs in disgust seeking a different, or
rather, more stable source of comfort...
the radio screams to me, "is there anyone out there?" i turn it off. if only
it was that easy. three days pass. "what happened? try to kill yourself
again?" no, just thinking about you. same thing, i suppose. i was only
concerned and the punishment for the crime of caring is patronization. you
don't think you deserve to be treated that way? what about the trust i gave
you. perhaps we shouldn't make promises we can't keep? then don't tell me you
love me. i take back what i said, go ahead and push me away. it's going to
make the final task that much easier since i know it's inevitable.
there is no plan, can't you see that?
i know the story, but it all worked out. trust. trust me. trust you. trust
everything. i'll sit by your side and guide you through hell. i've been there
many times before. hold my hand and i'll lead you home. then i'll let you go.
words are a deceit. as we stand with our arms intertwined, our bodies becoming
one, i'll admit my fear. you'll ask of what i'm afraid. i'll tell you i'm
afraid of my dreams becoming reality again.
she arose from the ashes of a long-dead dream scoffed by all. with the warmth
of the surrounding summer night, she repeated everything. then she took it away
as easily as she gave it. now she is sitting across from me. the name is true
this time and the story is true. now the little flame disappears in the night.
to be seen again? who knows? who cares? who knows who cares?
-- la bete noire
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