It’s funny how one person can make you feel the apocalypse over and over again.
You are my apocalypse.
I still feel the anger and the pain.
I still feel a million deaths with each breath.
I love you, painfully. Listen, I want you out of my life.
I can never be truly happy, but I can’t stand how every line of a poem or song I write turns acrid and bitter because they take me back to me and you.
It’s a tragedy how I have to live off of the laughter and love from the people I surround myself with, because there’s nothing left to scour from the rubbles of our castle that you single-handedly shook to the ground.
And you think smiling at me and putting your arms around me again will resurrect the kingdom I built you? No. I only truly loved once and it’ll never happen again. I showed you that fairy tales can happen, but you tore our pages apart with your shiny-slithering-splendid lies. Did he light the fireworks better than I did?
I lurk in the shadows, preying on the clueless, to hold their hand, give them a wisp of heaven, each time higher than the heaven I took you to, and then I torch their hearts and bury them in a lasting hell. To teach them that love is not a thing to be messed with. I take out on them what I still cannot, can never do to you, because inside me still lies a love that protects you from my rage.
But someone should take the rage, somehow. You have turned me into a demon.
And now that he could barely lift your toes from the ground, you come running back to me…
This is messed up. You have turned up again and messed me up. Friends? I never asked you for friendship. And how dare you now to think I’d even consider, considering how you destroyed me –destroyed everything?
Stay away. Stay away or I will bring you an apocalypse far more epic than what your Bible tells you. Over and over again.