Me, Deathlessly Decaying

⋆୨୧˚ it's not so scary

When they pulled me in for a kiss, and they got what they wanted (a friend) but there was something more I needed.

They didn't care if I was infected. I just wanted to be closer, a piece of them inside of me, like they offered. A kiss is just an offering of one's own pieces, and if it isn't, then it isn't a kiss.

I let akrasia take over and I wanted to take them into me.

I'm not dead.

Not alive either.

I need to consume them.

This isn't the afterlife, but I know that when I get there, we'll be together.

My Angel tore the piece of ribbon off my neck, the piece that held me together. I felt the sting of freshly exposed vessels and the deeper layer of skin that should be stitched together now.

I looked down at the hand of my Angel and saw a familiar-looking knife, stained with dried blood at the edges.

Is this why I feel so dizzy?

Did they do this to me?

"I really love you," they rasped with a sweet smile. "You're not gonna suffer like this."

No, I remember now. I killed myself. Or tried to, at least.

This is what I wanted.

This is what I chose.

Left myself laying there.

Thanks for helping me.
You really are my Angel of death.

My ears ringing now, and whispers from another room while the world goes dark like it wasn't already past sunset.

I want to live.

"I can't save you."