Lovers would rather see tears of anguish than laughter, besotted by our compatibility in misery. We had nothing else in common.
I watch the sun play off my skin, beads of sweat form and roll copiously down curves of flesh. I write like a person applies salve on a burn. If I inhale my prayers before sleeping, I dream of cursed affairs that have left me reckon. Men attacking me with knives, but in the end I leave them on the floor swimming in their own blood.
Still, despite the victory of survival in my dreams, my fragile heart near breaks upon waking. Seeing you there in the murky halls after returning the rest of my baggage... with another woman behind you. Beauty abides her face not yet scathed. You would never scar her like you did me, despite caring for her so little. I went farther than anyone else has and will go with you before. Haunting you in the day, you come for vengeance at night.
This war has carried on long enough, I no longer wish to fight.
I withdraw my hand and fall from these wuthering heights. The air is thin here as I gasp to try and breathe...
Had I known you were a phantom, I would have stayed clear from death.
I wish to live and sew a memory into the etch and crevice of my mind, one of beauty instead of cruelty.
God's children have all been tormented with the growing pains of ascension, you see, you have fallen. And mean to take all those close enough to you down. There is nothing there, and only those devoted to a deep sense of shame will remain in a grave as wretched as your own. Death is a very personal journey, perhaps you should embark on it alone.