Blood and Moonshadows
It's a twisted happily ever after (and pain that never, ever stops) as much as it's sunrise and midnight (new beginnings and bloody endings) and love (and hate and desire) by the light of the moonshadows (covered in blood) so consuming (and horrible and beautiful) in its passion (this everything and nothing between us).
You want to stop (but you don't) and you tell yourself you can stop (they say we lie to ourselves more than we ever do to others) as if it is (was, because it was over before it even began) only as a passing action (not this all consuming fire that will destroy you and everything you know). You talk about it as if it was a summer fling (but summer has come and long gone by).
You live as if you weren't guilty (because this is oh so wrong whispers the voice in the back of your head) and as if this feeling isn't consuming you until nothing is left (as if you were risking and losing) and you act as if you haven't signed your soul away to the devil (Fine print, fucking fine print, and you signed everything you were and could have been away). You deny that you haven't shattered in almost all the ways that matter (and that your future didn't break at your first kiss). This is you now.
You pretend later (when you are caught in the spider's web and know it as you love and hate and be indifferent and passionate and begging for more) of a perfect world (where love isn't hate and disgust and lust and a shame so deep that you flinch away from your own reflection), where this is not something bathed in blood under the shadows of the moonlight.
You fear but not for yourself (because you don't quite understand this like you think you do) because you know how deep you are (but you do not, because in the end you are just a foolish child). As you sleep you dream of hundreds of relentless, accusing voices and a time when your eyes weren't so ashamed.
You say it doesn't hurt (through your lies your mouth tastes of blood, though) and you believe nothing will hurt you as high as you are falling (but it isn't the fall that kills you, it's the landing, and you forget this). You say you understand the consequences and think there are none (because you can't quite believe that perhaps there will be consequences. You still have a child's belief of your own immortality and you don't even realize that you think like this) and you fall, and fall, and fall. The ground is rushing up at you, but you don't see, you never do.
This is your eternity (but eternity is never that long, and forever is only broken promises, and the ground is getting closer). You are waiting (for nothing, but you never believe that. Who wants to know the truth when the lies are so pretty) and you don't know why (but you do, you are waiting for the landing to come even though you believe it won't) because this is love (and it isn't as much as it is) by the light of the moonshadows (covered in blood) and it will last forever (but you know that isn't true. Forever is eternity and eternity doesn't last that long) because it is love. You are lying (and you know it, but you don't because you are still broken and a child).
You close your eyes and wait for something you don't know as hate and guilt and pain and love whisper in your ears of a forever (that will never last) bathed in blood soaked moonshadows. This is your everything and your nothing and you can't let it go no matter how much you want to. This is you, this pale shadow drenched in tears, broken in all the ways that matter (even as you scream in your head that it isn't true, it can't be true).
You are terrified and fragile, a child in the dark waiting for someone to rescue you and you want it all to stop but you don't and it won't. You say it doesn't hurt as you try to pretend but it never works because you can feel your soul being chipped away bit by bit every day and soon it will all be gone. You like to pretend that you don't cry to yourself in the dark of the night sitting on your bed, too. This is your life, you are falling and you think nothing can hurt you (but you forget that it isn't the fall that kills you, it's the landing). This is how your world ends.
You are falling and no one is there to catch you (the ground is nearer each time you look, so you don't). You let go and scream even as part of you loves this dark, dark love that is not love and courses through your blood like poison. Lies are so pretty, after all, and this type of love is the best kind of lie that blazes like fire as it destroys you and everything you know. This is your eternity and eternity is never that long, forever only broken promises, and the ground is getting closer. You have shattered in all the ways that matter, bathed in blood under the shadow of the moon. You are risking and losing and you know (in some small area of your mind) that this is the end and that your future broke at that first kiss. You are falling.