I distinctly remember lying to you, The bitter taste of the words as they drip off my forked tongue. A taste that lingers. A taste that I’ve become accustomed to more than the taste of your lips. Those lips that I chased after for so long, Just to turn away once I’ve reach the zenith, Turned away just to hide from the warming sunshine of your love. I lost a step somewhere along that he way. I lost the ability to keep in step with you, As I slowly traded in my limbs and warm heart for poisonous kisses and veins filled with cold blood. This isn’t your fault. This was not a machination of someone who gives themself wholeheartedly to a stranger whose side they don’t care to leave. This is a merciless, detached trap laid by someone who is incapable of knowing true joy. Someone who cannot be happy unless those around them cry out in pain. His greatest opus. His symphony of malice.