I'm not entirely sure to when I fell in love with you. Was it that moment you laid bleeding on the floor from my foolishness? Or the countless times you bullied and broke me down?
Doubtless I found my thoughts drowned in the memory of you. Your pale skin, platinum blonde hair, and electrifying steel eyes. The strong wall of a chest; having my body pushed against it. To lean on you as we breathe in unison in deep slumber. And your long arms that I yearn to have wrapped around me; protecting me from the evil that still wishes to attack me.
Your thin, pink lips that I itch to connect with mine, map my body sinfully, and cover my face with longing admiration. This never happens; I only ever receive a punch of your hand into my face. The only things I receive from your lips are slurred curses and insults.
Even now after the war, you still hate me for the losses. Everyone does, I can hear their mutters and hushed words all the time. Insulting, degrading, and breaking my soul down one word at a time. Your words affect me the most, rip my heart into shreds. They stab into my heart; break me to pieces.
The pain in my heart is great. It shallows all my thoughts alive; consumed with darkness. It shatters with every harsh word. So here I sit, wishing for the time when you'll come. I keep thinking you'll come but you never do. I keep imagining that'll you will appear in front of me. Hold me to your body and kiss me as we make love. This is only my imagination; a sick twist figment of mind.
I look at my lap, the shining metal of the blade dances off the moons reflection. I lift it with shaking hands; press it to the veins in my wrist. Then I drag it slowly across tan skin. A rush of crimson falls out of the slice. I repeat my actions. Again and again; till my skin in ripped into shreds. No one can save me; no one will.
My breathing labors over time. My head begins to titter forward, dropping with emptiness. Dull sounds of the lake's water laps against the shore, trying to keep me awake. My body slumps backwards. I lay in a puddle of my misery. Death is beckoning; but no-one cares, they never did. I'm just a pawn in the play.