Putrida 《Rotten》

I despise you.

A woman of many scars dawned upon her petite yet perilous figure, still nothing short of a spoiled richened child, gifted with the stolen blessings of your infantry so that no matter what— you’d still be loved.

They adore you.. almost as if your past hadn’t been what it was, each soldier would kneel before you only to chastely kiss your blessed knuckles as if they were to plant a stolen ring of promise upon each and every single finger to show that you are loved.

Yet I cannot lie. I felt that way too.

With each chance encounter you’d come to realize that I wasn’t just something everyone despised, even if my own persona had been decked out by towering black shards.

Instead, those tainted blue eyes gripped at mine and forcefully tore them apart— piece by piece until all that was left within the sockets, was nothing short of blood— yet it ran thicker than tainted molasses.

Even then, you never stopped.

Almost as if I had been playing a game with one of Lucifer’s demons— your eyes had now become mine, unlawfully granting you the bitter sweet access into my soul— burning my breast with each tantalizing touch, as you were curious for more until you’d too realize, that I am a woman of many scars... yet none have yet to be healed.

I’m addicted to you.

Night after night, I crave your honey blond hair dancing between my broken fingers in hopes that one day I’d find the strength to rise against it, brutally chopping away at each strand, until you’d be left with nothing dawned upon your crown.

In hopes that others might find the ugliness within you too.

Everything about you makes my skin crawl... the thought of your thin laced lips pressed against mine whilst our bodies may dance underneath the silent echoes of moonlight— becoming intoxicated off of each touch, each breath, and each whisper.

Then in-between our locked lips, I’d open my eyes and finally see you as you are.

Harshly gripping against your childlike frame and ending it all so that your cloaked spirit shall no longer send me into an endless spiral of damnation.

Yet I can’t.

In the midst of each hellish plan, I’ve stupidly fallen for you— becoming nothing short of a toppled pawn atop a scattered chess board achingly waiting for you to turn me over so that I may face the sky— drinking in each breath before pitifully thanking you for allowing me to live.

I should’ve ended it.

My beastly hands shake in agony as I can no longer hold you as I had craved one too many times before... each coo, each caw, each dying whimper I’d give just so you’d stay by my side so that loneliness wouldn’t find its way back into my beating chest.

Because of you.

Nothing hurts more than the words of rejection sprouting through your being as I’d been left with no choice but to turn my back and leave.

And as I’d run, every tainted thought came rushing back filling me once more with the hate I’ve grown to press away— yet this time I couldn’t stop it.

Everything about you haunted me. Leaving me no other choice than to sit upon my highest of rocks— giving my life.

Yet no matter what, you still wouldn’t care.