SWAN SONG; tom riddle

𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎

dear tom,

there's something that's been bothering me ever since that night.

why did you kiss me, tom?

was your ever-present libido so persistent that you couldn't wait till i was dead to find someone else to satisfy it?

i spent an immeasurable amount of time dissecting everything that had happened that night and that was the one thing that stumped me.

until i realized.

you didn't kiss me because of desire.

you didn't even kiss me out of mockery.

you wanted to taste my fear. you wanted to replace the repugnant terror-soaked air with your lips and your tongue, inhaling the sickly sweet scent of melancholy from me to you.

it wasn't enough to watch me suffer. you had to taste it as well. you wanted to sample a spoonful of my distress before it was washed away with water filling my lungs.

         the remnants of my living essence were all i had left, and, like everything else, you just had to steal it from me.

         how did my sorrow taste? i hope it was everything you hoped it would be and more.

yours,
florizel