Well... Staring at her empty eyes was easier than expected. All she ever did was look up at that blank, white ceiling. Selfish b***h....
But nothing was like her breathing. She always made a little sound while inhaling. A little bit of her voice that cackled through her dry, blood-encrusted throat. Whistling with her warm, pained intakes.
And her fingers. Oh.. Her fingers... Once so tightly gripping the bed sheets, now limply resting, lightly touching her palm.
Look at that.. Her skin. What are all those cracks? Did I do that? Whoops... That lying whore deserved it!
Oh but what am I doing..? Why must I gaze upon her like this?
Her beauty. Look. It's fading. Her dark brown eyes, that green sparkle behind them... Gone. Her luscious brown hair is matted and tangled and stuck with dried blood. Why isn't it beautiful?
What ever happened to those light pink lips? So soft and smooth, now cracked and pale blue with light cuts in between.
Pathetic...
What ever happened to our love? What we shared? I watched and protected her as she slept and how does she thank me? Pushing me away?!
I went out of my way to hold her at night, when she had those nightmares. I got scratched and cut from those thorns on that damn vine climbing up her house. I slit my stomach on her windows. I strained my muscles trying not to move her as I slid my arms around her. She woke up from nightmares? I held her. I was there, lightly forming my body around hers and showing her I care but no. She doesn't appreciate this.
And my blood stained her skin and hair sometimes.. She always smelled of strawberries.
Her mumbles of names in her sleep, her writhing body moving and tensing up.
Her breathing changed and was shallow. The same in her fear as when she pleasures herself, however these times were less peaceful.
Her hands clenched, her body moved forward, her legs kicked violently...And all the time, I held her.
But when she awoke? I was nothing but a memory of a fading, unrealistic dream... Such a self-centered ditz sometimes. But who cares?
I love her... And now she's on my bed, dreaming in a violent way she's not used to... Doesn't matter.
She's mine.
 The-Poison-Muffin · Sat Jun 09, 2012 @ 03:02am · 0 Comments |
