There are too many words, there are too few words.
There is nothing to say, yet somehow, there is everything. It must be said.
It must be said that there are never enough words to express, to communicate, to explain, to spellouttoyou the efforts, the injuries, the injustices, the worries, the fears, the scars, the pains and the woes of my love for you.
There shall never be a love like it, never a love like this that should consume my heart to the degree of a burst bubble. Like the bubbles in the playground or paddling pool when we shared the age of six or seven years alive and breathing; our, or rather your, love was transient, expendable, all used up the moment it was expressed and shared around for all to see. Once the bubble burst I was worthless, and you were worth the world and more. And, get this, not only worth the world and more and more to me, but to her. That worthless witch who cradled your soul in her crooked arms, stomped on my own with her sequined shoes. That creature who festered, who burned, who consumed and who stole. Whether she had been a person, a being, a mist or a demon, I shall forever remember, recall, re-enact and retell the role she played in my bitter, burning downfall.
Whether the part she played were through the voices in my head, that spun me in every direction but the truth about you. Whether the part she played was in your eyes, your heart, your head, your hands and between your sheets, thieving you away into a world I was barred from for all eternity. Whether the part she played was solely that of the inflicted injustice of a chair flung fast at an un-flinching cheekbone. Whether the part she played was the bloodied pools settling upon the pavement, the snotspitblood that curdled down my throat, the bittersweet tears at the realisation of evil, the dizzying effects of vodkaorangeallfuckingnightlongonafartooemptystomach, combined with the pain of your love and the lies of your lovers.
I will always remember, recall, retell. Your actions, your afflictions, your selfishness and your evils moulded me into the being I currently represent. I am proud of what you did, and the life I have led. I am proud of the scars, of the tears, the fears and the memories.
Despite all that blood, sweat, pain and tears, I shall never regret loving you, for this love is too pure to disappear, to fester, to falter. I shall reside behind your eyes, underneath your blackened heart, like the soot that rests beneath the blocks of coal that represent all that you do not stand for.
You're a bad one, but I will always love you.
There is nothing to say, yet somehow, there is everything. It must be said.
It must be said that there are never enough words to express, to communicate, to explain, to spellouttoyou the efforts, the injuries, the injustices, the worries, the fears, the scars, the pains and the woes of my love for you.
There shall never be a love like it, never a love like this that should consume my heart to the degree of a burst bubble. Like the bubbles in the playground or paddling pool when we shared the age of six or seven years alive and breathing; our, or rather your, love was transient, expendable, all used up the moment it was expressed and shared around for all to see. Once the bubble burst I was worthless, and you were worth the world and more. And, get this, not only worth the world and more and more to me, but to her. That worthless witch who cradled your soul in her crooked arms, stomped on my own with her sequined shoes. That creature who festered, who burned, who consumed and who stole. Whether she had been a person, a being, a mist or a demon, I shall forever remember, recall, re-enact and retell the role she played in my bitter, burning downfall.
Whether the part she played were through the voices in my head, that spun me in every direction but the truth about you. Whether the part she played was in your eyes, your heart, your head, your hands and between your sheets, thieving you away into a world I was barred from for all eternity. Whether the part she played was solely that of the inflicted injustice of a chair flung fast at an un-flinching cheekbone. Whether the part she played was the bloodied pools settling upon the pavement, the snotspitblood that curdled down my throat, the bittersweet tears at the realisation of evil, the dizzying effects of vodkaorangeallfuckingnightlongonafartooemptystomach, combined with the pain of your love and the lies of your lovers.
I will always remember, recall, retell. Your actions, your afflictions, your selfishness and your evils moulded me into the being I currently represent. I am proud of what you did, and the life I have led. I am proud of the scars, of the tears, the fears and the memories.
Despite all that blood, sweat, pain and tears, I shall never regret loving you, for this love is too pure to disappear, to fester, to falter. I shall reside behind your eyes, underneath your blackened heart, like the soot that rests beneath the blocks of coal that represent all that you do not stand for.
You're a bad one, but I will always love you.
