She wasn't love at first sight, neither breath of fresh air nor breathtaking shining star of my life, the moment she stepped in I knew she was trouble. Her pretty face, her infectious smile, her cute pullover- almost picture perfect, I was meant to fall for her. And I did, happily, helplessly. Each day my heart witnessed her over gracious nature, sugar coated with sweetness and unconditional care, it started craving for her, as if she's one controlling its beats.
I thought I'd be able to restrain myself from getting emotionally invested. But the worst happened, I made her my dream; she captured it. My mistake, I let her wander there, hypnotised by her cures, her support, so crippled I was for her help.
It wasn't the moment she stepped inside my darkness and promised me light, that I called it love. It was when I trapped her there, stealing her radiance, and she didn't flail, just surreptitiously succumb to my abyss. She got herself acquainted to very nature of mine, the extreme worst of me. She offered me bits of her heart to complete my shallow one, and I took chunks out of it. I blamed her, tore her apart, tamed her with my atrocity like a savaged animal and she witnessed the cruel brutality a man possess, and I never left a chance to unleash it on her.
When I was all thorns, and she was happily bleeding I knew she is the one. She reached inside, venturing through my past and dug out the secrets hidden since long, dark and horrid. She heard the toxic in my words, she tasted the venom in my blood. She touched my naked soul besmirched with sins, but didn't run away, stupidly believing that her presence could cleanse the stains.
When all her friends were busy discovering new horizons, breaking out into new worlds, she felt gratified being a part of mine, rephrasing- defining mine. And now she is stranded there, so obliviously lost that her existence is now squeezed to fitting together the pieces of this broken mess. I know it isn't so pure, that there can't be a match between heaven and hell. The imbecile is still busy searching for the good inside me, which simply doesn't exist but I keep her unaware lest she should know, the devil would lose the angel he lost her heart to.
I thought I'd be able to restrain myself from getting emotionally invested. But the worst happened, I made her my dream; she captured it. My mistake, I let her wander there, hypnotised by her cures, her support, so crippled I was for her help.
It wasn't the moment she stepped inside my darkness and promised me light, that I called it love. It was when I trapped her there, stealing her radiance, and she didn't flail, just surreptitiously succumb to my abyss. She got herself acquainted to very nature of mine, the extreme worst of me. She offered me bits of her heart to complete my shallow one, and I took chunks out of it. I blamed her, tore her apart, tamed her with my atrocity like a savaged animal and she witnessed the cruel brutality a man possess, and I never left a chance to unleash it on her.
When I was all thorns, and she was happily bleeding I knew she is the one. She reached inside, venturing through my past and dug out the secrets hidden since long, dark and horrid. She heard the toxic in my words, she tasted the venom in my blood. She touched my naked soul besmirched with sins, but didn't run away, stupidly believing that her presence could cleanse the stains.
When all her friends were busy discovering new horizons, breaking out into new worlds, she felt gratified being a part of mine, rephrasing- defining mine. And now she is stranded there, so obliviously lost that her existence is now squeezed to fitting together the pieces of this broken mess. I know it isn't so pure, that there can't be a match between heaven and hell. The imbecile is still busy searching for the good inside me, which simply doesn't exist but I keep her unaware lest she should know, the devil would lose the angel he lost her heart to.
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