Saturday, July 4, 2009

I'll Never Be Your Beautiful.

Purging never felt so drunk.

Slurred words and bird's eye wide, trembling over troubles and stumbling over situations. Nauseated with your presence but never vomiting. Heads jerked to opposite sides so our gazes would never meet. Scoffs and coughs and blank stares. Such a reflex to flick the fuck you finger while verbally giving its definition. So quick to judge as if I was the gavel and gave the ultimate decision of justice[karma?]. So impaired that even the firework's light didn't show me the right side of your neck.

911 What's your emergency? My heart was ripped right from my chest and is barely breathing on the sidewalk. Slumped. Bruised. Bloody. Dying. CPR please. I need CPR. I need the comfort of his arms and his passion and his.....Flatline.

I did not survive his vicious attack of Lies. Of deceit. Of manipulation. Of cunningness. Of immaturity and idocrisy. I failed myself. I failed to love without you. I died in the arms of my murderer. Unmasked. Unscathed. And not guilty by reason of self defense.

It was considered my fault. I abused you with kisses and wore you down with hugs. I rubbed the right spots, I pushed the right buttons. I was consistent. I was content. But I loved you, I loved you and it was such a terrible thing to do.

Can't say I'm more sorry for you than I am for myself.
I fell in like.lovelust. with a Fucker.

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