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Terrible Things

They both whisper in your ear, and what does it mean when you choose one over the other because of the way the sound makes your skin prickle, your hair stand on end?

They both sound like love, but maybe that’s not true. A terrible thing is you know nothing of love and one sounds sultry and the other sounds parental. Who are you to know which to follow when you’ve never had a mothers love nor a fathers pride?

Hands can grip your waist and lips can find your neck – after all this time can you yet tell love from lust? You think your beating heart speeds up at everyone one of them because you have so much love to give. A terrible thing is you have never known what love feels like, given or received.

Rejection tastes like a shadow and you give it no heed – there are many others with open arms and pulled down pants. You think they love you and think they want you – a terrible thing is they just want someone to use. So you’re used.

Lips no longer taste like honey and skin no longer feels like a home you could create. You stare into the mirror and look at your face and you can think whatever you want. All of the people you’ve held, all of those whom have shared your bed, you can create something beautiful out of that. A terrible thing is you find yourself heartbroken in the most awful way of never having had love in it in the first place.

The dark coolness in your eyes gives nothing away but sorrow, though it enchants some, it chases most away. Though it’s not like it matters anymore. No fleshy desires bring comfort. A terrible thing is you didn’t know you could feel more alone than being alone, but you find yourself feeling like a ghost.

Who’s to blame you when you find it hard to open your eyes and push food through your lips? Who’s to blame you when Death feels like the only home you’ve ever belonged to? When you drag your hand through the dirt and feel more warmth from that than any body, who’s to blame you when you so crave it desperately, like the seduction of a first lover? A terrible thing is, no one can blame you, but everyone does.

Your head gets heavy and hard to keep up. Your feet hurt and your eyes ache. Your heart throbs at the lack of love to give and take. You can stare into the soft eyes of Death from afar and know it will eventually belong to you. A terrible thing is, you can’t stop, and Death isn’t yet yours.

And what a terrible thing it is.

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