Violent delights, they're what make us who we are, they make us who we can be, who we will be, and who we'll never be, or even dream of being, because to dream is to try and comprehend a life that shall ever exist for us, it wastes us away because we want what we can't have, but then again, everyone wants what they can't have.
If we can't have something, we crave for it, lust after it and so we elude ourselves to think that we love it, but why, it only hurts us, and if we ever do get it, it destroys us and who we are, violent delights wasted.
My violent delight was a love tainted by death, death and fire. An ashen love.
My love was pricked by a thorn as sharp as the finest blade, and bled blood like fire in hell, and it felt like hell, coursing through my body, bleaching my insides until I was left squirming and crying inside.
He'd look at me with deep set eyes full of lusting hate, despising everything about me, but not being able to get enough of me, keep me coming back for me, feeling better, yet sicker every time, the cycle goes and never breaks until one of us do.
And it has to break, split apart the fibres so I can be free, one of us had to go, but which? Better him than me. Yes, murdering the one love you have is not the wisest idea, it drives you to insanity, tiny nails being hammered into your mind because he is not there to numb the pain of your everyday life, but soon the sun has to rise and reality has to set in, one of us has to go and it shouldn't be me.
But violent delights are fiery passions and hateful loves, and pain seeps my every wounds, I did try, I truly did, and I wanted it to work, and be good, but it wasn't, it was the worst decision of my life, and I'll never regret a single moment of it, because it was passionate.
And now, as one of us goes, and I feel like my soul is being torn from my body, numb, because it was shredded into nothing, I don't regret anything again, because I had the life I chose, yes, the bad won out, but I still got what I asked for, a love filled with such passion with such intensity that there is nothing I could ever regret because even though it was the worst, it was the best, and I got the best which is what I set out for.
So, lying here, as I bleed from trying to save what was lost to me a long time ago, I'm not afraid. Why would I be? No, I do not know where I will end up, be it dark or light, but right now is what I'm living for, lying on the cold stone floor, people surrounding me as I pour crimson from my throat.
The floor staining red, and a head of chocolate hair rushes towards me, ignoring my killer, leaving him for the others, he skidded across and knelt down next to me, panicked and scared, unlike me.
Yes he may hate and despise everything I am, but he loves me for it, and looking into the eyes as bright as the sun right now, my death is perfect, surrounded by those who may not love me, but tried to, and in his arms is where I shall stay forever, lying in a cold slumber because that is where I was last, surrounded by his arms as he tried to stop the flow of blood.
And in my last breath, he whispered the words I have longed to hear for so long; "I love you..."
These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die,
Like fire and powder,
As they kiss consume.
-William Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet